Call It A Hunch
by Irrepressable
Summary: Not all heroes are Dragonborn. Some are mercenaries, some are mages, some are thieves, and some fight for the legion. Ordinary, if exceptionally skilled, people going about their day to day lives. Sometimes all it takes is meeting the right person at the right time for you to get involved in the biggest mess you've ever seen.
1. What Happens in Riverwood Stays in River

Chapter 1: What Happens in RIverwood Stays in Riverwood

Life was good for Izeera. She had good friends, good ale, and the world was full of bright, shiny things that explode when you touch them. Oh, wait- that wasn't a fire rune. It was just the sun. The bright, bright, painfully bright sun. With a groan, the hung-over Khajiit flung a forearm over her face, blocking the sun from her eyes. "Not so much mead next time." Izeera grumbled to herself as she slowly moved her arm away from her face- and promptly scrunched her eyes shut at the bright light.

She was not clad in her armor- just the simple tunic and breeches that she wore underneath them. Through the tunic, she could feel something hard, rugged, and oddly cylindrical supporting her body. Both feet dangled freely on either side. Steeling herself, the Khajiit opened her eyes ever so slightly to ascertain her surroundings. Leaves, twigs, a branch leading up to...

Izeera's copper eyes snapped open when she remembered where she was. She was just outside of the tiny little village of Riverwood, and she had fallen asleep in a tree. Again. Slowly and carefully, the Khajiit climbed down the tree, and was quite relieved when she finally reached the ground. After donning her orcish armor and her mage's hood, she strapped her trusty dwarven war axe to her belt and turned to look at the half-constructed tent and the half-naked occupants inside- a tall, blond Nord woman and an even taller Altmer male with white-blond hair and three jagged scars running paralel along the right side of his face. Both were sound asleep. Figures. Even after a night of self-induced inebriation, she was _still _the first one to wake up. That was something she intended to remedy quite quickly. Izeera walked over to her slumbering companions... and kicked the High Elf in the side. "Hey! Wake up! If Izeera has to deal with the bright sun and headache, then so do you!"

It wasn't enough to injure him, but it would certainly be painful enough to wake him from even a deep sleep. The High Elf let out a grunt of pain and rolled out of bed in nothing but his underthing, making a quick scramble for his trousers. The grunt of pain and the movement of the High Elf was quick to also wake the Nord woman, who also made a dash for her clothes. The two were desperatly trying _not_ to look at each other, Izeera noted with a smirk. The High Elf, whom Izeera had taken to calling Shame, was quite the paradox. He was a High Elf, a race known for their arrogance, yet he had incredibly low-self esteem, despite Izeera's repeated attempts over the past year or so they had known each other of breaking him out of the cycle of self-loathing he found himself in. But still, she would try transform him from a drunk, depressed sack of horse excrement into the confident, self-assured adventurer that he should truly be. That's what a best friend was for, no?

The newest member of their little group, the Nord woman called Hildegard, had a hot head and a really big hammer. She was also, as Izeera had observed numerous times (and experienced once, thanks to her own silver tongue), very _free_ with her affections. She had on several occasions made comment on how she kind of pitied the depressed Altmer, and with the influence of an ungodly amount of mead, the Nord woman had finally acted upon that pity.

Izeera had a hunch that things would be awkward in the group for a day or two, but would not cause the group to break up. With that in mind, she turned around and gave her fellow adventurers some privacy to change. When she turned around, Hildegard was in her full iron armor, with her warhammer strapped to her back. Shame, of course, was clad in his mage robes- special mage robes, which allowed him to regenerate magicka faster and made it easier for him to cast the restoration spells which he so favored. As the group turned around to face the road, Shame suddenly turned around and rushed to the bushes. The sound of vomiting could be heard. As Hildegard was preoccupied holding the elf's white-blond hair out of his face while he vomited, and said elf was preoccupied vomiting, Izeera was the only one to see two people- a Nord man and an Imperial girl- wearing somewhat singed-looking Imperial armor running down the road and into Riverwood. "What are _they_ in such a big hurry for?" Izeera wondered out loud.

* * *

After another hour or so spent gathering their belongings and cleaning up their campsite, the group made their way into Riverwood with Shame at the rear. The elf certainly looked like he had been to Oblivion and back, which was suiting, since the night before he had chugged down enough mead to topple a Daedric prince. Well, Izeera doubted it was literally _that_ much, but Shame had still consumed the most alcohol out of the three of them.

The Khajiit spellsword's train of thought was derailed by the sound of some old woman insisting that she had seen a dragon. Hmm. "Izeera thinks we were not the only ones who dipped too deeply into the mead barrel." The Khajiit commented wryly, resulting in a stern glare from the old woman.

A glare which Izeera promptly ignored. If she had paid any mind to the glares and heckling from old, hidebound Nords, she wouldn't be the cool, collected, self-assured adventurer that she was today. "So," Hildegard asked the group's unofficial leader, "Where is the next job?"

"Bandits in the Valtheim Towers." Izeera replied, "Very easy money. After this, we go to Whiterun to collect reward, then we will go to Windhelm- and no, Izeera will not join sides. Izeera does not get involved in Nord problems."

The group of adventurers then headed to where their horses where stabled. Hildegard's and Shame's were a pair of stout, heavy Skyrim horses. Izeera's was a lovely, pewter grey warmblood- a swift but strong horse that was the happy accident resulting from the unintentional breeding of a large, sturdy Skyrim mare and a lighter but faster Cyrodillic stallion. The group mounted their horses and were off. They travelled until nightfall, quickly setting up camp before the sun went all the way down.

Izeera heard the 'clink' of glass touching stone and turned around to see that a bottle of some sort of alcohol had fallen from Shame's pack and he was now reaching for it. That wouldn't do. He wasn't allowed to drink on a job. So, Izeera called upon her magicka, reaching into herself and siezing that power. A small ball of cold energy formed in her open hand, and she thrust it in the direction of the bottle. It hit the bottle from the side, shattering it but harmlessly leaving Shame with nothing but shock and a shiver. Izeera frowned and said, "No drinking on the job."

"But Izeera-" Shame protested.

"No buts," Izeera interrupted the Altmer. "If Izeera cannot drink, then neither can you!"

Just before the sun went down, Hildegard returned with a couple of rabbits slung over her shoulder. Izeera knew that the Nord was no expert archer, but she could shoot well enough to hunt a couple of rabbits. And so, the team had their supper and washed it down with clean, fresh, non-alcoholic water. Izeera did not care what the Nords said. A dry job was a successful job. They could drink to their hearts' content after they had the gold for it. So after dinner, they shared some stories and took turns keeping watch while the others slept. One could never be too careful, especially in Skyrim.

In the morning, they readied their gear and left again. Izeera and Shame both carefully selected their spells. Izeera elected to prepare a fireball spell, keeping one hand free to wield her axe. She figured that Shame would select a stone-skin spell and either reserve his other hand for a healing spell or use it to wield his mace. So they headed to the towers.

When the towers were in sight, Izeera hushed the others as she spotted the first bandit. Lifting her hand, she formed a ball of flames in her free hand and flung a ball of flames at the bandit. The bandit let out a cry as the fireball flew straight into his face, quickly rendering him as dead as can be. Next came the rain of arrows. The three sell-swords charged into the first tower, ignoring the chest- Izeera made sure to snag the two healing potions on the shelf- and headed upstairs. When they came to the bridge, Izeera held the bandits off with her fireballs as Hildegard went upstairs. It seemed that she was successful, as a dead bandit fell from above, slipping off the bridge and into the river below. One of the bandits was able to get past Izeera's fireballs. The Khajiit swore and drew her axe, parrying the bandit's strike, dodging with the skill of one highly used to moving in heavy armor. Finally, Izeera swung her axe, cleaving through the bandit's skull like a pudding. She kicked the bandit off the bridge before charging ahead once again. With a combination of Izeera's fireballs and Hildegard's arrows, they finished off most of the bandits. It was then that the toughest looking bandit, no doubt the leader, charged across the bridge. Izeera charged at the big man, but he bashed her back with his shield. The Khajiit cried out as she flew back into the tower and hit her back against the wall. She sat, dazed, as the bandit leader approached her, sword drawn. It seemed that this was the end for Izeera. The bandit chief even said so. "This is the end for you, cat!"

He brought his sword at her. The world seemed to slow as the sword swung at her, and Izeera rolled out of the way before bringing her axe up to block his second swing. A shadow dropped down from above, and something hard and metal collided with the back of the bandit's head. The weapon was brought down once again, ending the surprised bandit's life once and for all. When the bandit dropped at her feet, Izeera finally saw who it was that had saved her life. "Shame." Izeera said softly. The Khajiit's tone then changed dramatically as she snapped, "What took you so long to save Izeera?"

* * *

When the group arrived at Whiterun, they quickly retrieved the bounty. They then headed to the inn to buy some drinks. Izeera decided to head outside to see what the merchants were selling. As she turned to face the road, she saw the same Imperial girl that she had seen heading for Riverwood. She appeared to be leaving Whiterun in a hurry. With a shrug, Izeera headed back into the city. When she arrived, people were still gossiping about something that had happened before Izeera and her friends had arrived. The local Nords were gossipping about the Greybeards, but the spellsword paid it no mind. This was Nord business, not Izeera's business. If it was important, Hildegard would probably say something about it. Of course, Izeera took this with a grain of salt. There was a chance that Hildegard might say something about it even if it wasn't important. In Izeera's eyes, Nords were busy-bodies. Just as Altmer were prone to arrogance, Nords were prone to gossip. That was just how Nords were. Hildegard was less prone to gossip than many other Nords, but she was hardly an exception. She was still true to her gossip-prone heritage. Of course, complaining about Nords would accomplish nothing. All Nords were stubborn. Some were too stubborn to admit that they were wrong. This was especially true for Nords who practiced a certain extent of racial hatred for anyone who wasn't a Nord. Dwelling on the subject would also accomplish nothing, Izeera decided. Not all Nords were bad. There were many perfectly nice Nords in Skyrim. Hildegard was one fine, if a bit extreme, example. She was what was known in scholarly circles as a 'hugger'. Hugs were fine. Compressed lungs were not.

By the time Izeera was done with her musing, her feet had carried her to the Bannered Mare, where her friends were no doubt drowning themselves in alcohol. She hoped that there would be no drunken brawling, but she wouldn't count on it. This was a Nord city, after all. Brawl or not, the Khajiit doubted that her friends would be involved. Not unless some idiot prone to racial hatred said something cruel about the drunk-to-numbness Shame. Then she would come in and beat them herself. Fortunately, her worries were unfounded. Those who were drunk were not making more trouble than usual. Shame was, as expected, completely and utterly smashed. Hildegard was tipsy, but then again she had clearly not consumed nearly the amount that the Altmer had. Izeera held back a sigh. It seemed that her plans for visiting Windhelm would have to wait.


	2. On The Road Again

Chapter 2: On The Road Again.

A remarkably buxom Argonian female struggled with the bushes as she tugged her robes free from the bush it had snagged on while a rather bored-looking Dremora watched the whole spectacle. Once she was free, the Argonian smoothed her robes and took another step, only for her robes to become snagged again. She let out a frustrated growl before yanking herself free, tearing her robes slightly. "I hate Skyrim." She groused, "A Clairvoyance spell would be much more useful if these blasted Nords built more roads!"

"It would also be useful if you had an actual sense of direction," The Dremora snarked, "_Mistress_."

"I do have a sense of direction!" The Argonian argued, "Just because my name is Lost-In-The-Forest does not mean that I am literally lost!"

"We passed that stump twice already." The Dremora deadpanned.

"Not another word... _Sparky_." Lost-In-The-Forest snapped, using the dreaded nickname.

"I am not 'Sparky'!" The Dremora snapped, "Foolish mortal, you know what my name is!"

"Fine, Sparkticus." Lost-In-The-Forest snapped, "Have it your way, but if you don't stop being so aggravating, then I swear by the Divines, I will retract our agreement!"

"You wouldn't." The Dremora narrowed his eyes.

"Then stop distracting me so I can find that blasted road. Once we've returned to Falkreath and resupplied, we can go back out into the wilds and you can kill anyone and anything that accosts us in whatever manner you see fit."

The Dremora's face split in a wicked, gleeful grin. The Argonian rolled her eyes and continued in her chosen direction. After a few more minutes of travel, she thought about where she wanted to go and released another spell, revealing another trail. "This way." Lost-In-The-Forest declaired, heading off to follow the trail.

The Dremora gave a mock salute before declaring sarcastically, "I bow before your superior navigation skills, oh short one!"

Lost-In-The-Forest frowned deeply. She was indeed shorter than average for a female Argonian. Not letting the Dremora see her reaction, the Argonian said, "If you keep mocking me, I'll make you look like a wood elf when I next disguise your ugly face."

"Not nearly as ugly as your face." Sparkticus said with a smirk.

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

Travel could be quite uneventful when Skyrim was taking a break from trying to kill you in numerous painful ways. Uneventful could lead to boredom. Boredom could lead to impromptu games of 'I spy'. When that grew boring as well, it led to other things. Terrible things, like Hildegard singing. Hildegard singing could lead to one being tempted to steal Shame's mace and bash one's own head in with it. Izeera was rather attached to her head. Finally, the Khajiit snapped, "Hildegard, if you do not stop singing, Izeera will push you from your horse, drag you into a river, and hold your head down until the bubbles stop!"

"Don't you dare threaten me, Izeera." The Nord said sharply, her blue eyes narrowing behind her blond forelocks.

"If you do not sing, then Izeera will not have to threaten you." The Khajiit replied calmly, as if were the most simple thing in the world.

"Singing is a very good way to stop boredom." Hildegard verbally defended herself. "Don't you agree, Shame?"

The Nord woman glanced back at the High Elf. "Shame?"

It was clear that the elf disliked being put on the spot like that. However, instead of the expected awkward slience, he did reply right away. "Well," Shame suggested, "It might be a good idea to give the singing a break."

"Yes," Izeera added, "Before our ears start to bleed from your braying."

"Braying? Are you saying that I sing like a braying ass?" Hildegard asked angrily.

"No, your braying is more like that of a dying horker." Izeera replied.

"Izeera! Hildegard! Please, ENOUGH!"

The two stopped their horses and looked back at Shame. Had he just raised his voice at them? Both of them were temporarily stunned into silence. "Please, stop fighting." Shame said, clearly far too sober to deal with this. Izeera looked at Hildegard. She did not apoligize, instead merely saying, "Your singing brings out the worst in Izeera."

Hildegard said nothing. The three quietly resumed their journey. After a few hours, Izeera spoke up. "Izeera spies with her little eye... something brown."

"It's a deer, isn't it?" Hildegard asked.

"Yes, it's a deer. Now Izeera spies- oh, shit! Sabre cat! Hold Izeera's horse!"

The Khajiit quickly dismounted as the sabre cat began to charge at them. Before the horses could charge or the sabre cat could reach them, Izeera flung a fireball at the giant feline. The creature hit the ground, its momentum carrying it to the Khajiit's feet. There was a brief silence before Izeera said, "Izeera thinks that now would be a good time to set up camp."

* * *

The next day, the adventurers packed up camp and resumed their travel. At their current pace, they did not reach Windhelm until nightfall. Just outside the city, Izeera, Hildegard, and Shame stabled their horses and made their way into Windhelm with Izeera in hurry at the lead. This puzzled Hildegard, as she could not think of a reason for Izeera to be in more of a hurry than the rest of them. So, she decided to ask Shame. "Shame, why is Izeera in such a hurry to get into Windhelm?"

Shame's face formed into an amused smile as he replied, "Because Izeera is sweet on one of the locals."

"You know not what you speak of!" Izeera snapped, "We are very good friends, not lovers!"

"I apologize for the misunderstanding, then." Shame said, his tone sincere as usual.

"Who is this lover that you speak of, Shame?" Hildegard asked.

"She is not Izeera's lover!" the Khajiit snapped again.

"So it's a she, then?" Hildegard said with a smirk, "So your depravity is not limited to seducing your companions."

"Izeera is not depraved." The Khajiit snarled, "It is you who is depraved. Greeting with hugs one moment and cruel words with the next. You will not mock Izeera!"

Before either of the two females could draw their weapons, Shame stepped in between them. "Hildegard, Izeera, I wouldn't assume to tell either of you what to do, but perhaps you should stop fighting before the guards decide to intervene?"

Izeera and Hildegard glanced at the guards, who were giving them dirty looks. They seemed to be especially glaresome towards Izeera and Shame. Clearing her throat, Izeera stood upright and adjusted her braids before walking towards the gates with Hildegard and Shame taking the rear. And so they entered the city of Windhelm. It was the same as always with backwards Nords saying cruel things to the local Dark Elves. Sometimes it was not just cruel things, but cruel actions as well. It made Izeera sick. Once they were out of sight of the guards, the Khajiit spat on the snow-covered ground in disgust. Turning to her fellow adventurers, she said, "If we are lucky, we will be able to stay the night with Izeera's friend. If not, we will go to the inn. Either way, Izeera does not want to search for work until the morning. Izeera does not want to seek work here, but there is little choice."

"You say that about every Nord city you enter." Hildegard pointed out.

"Izeera means what she says about Windhelm." Izeera replied, clearly irritable. "Izeera means every word."

* * *

After much searching, the group finally located the friend that Izeera had been talking about. It was a Dunmer woman in the Grey Quarter. She was quite beautiful, with smooth grey skin and long ebony hair. She would be even more attractive if she didn't look so sad. "Lyall!" Izeera greeted, "Hello to you! Are you well?"

"As well as can be, considering the state of the city." Lyall replied with a sad smile.

"Izeera wishes there was something she could do about it." The Khajiit said with a frown.

"I know." said Lyall. "Your heart is always in the right place, Izeera."

"You speak highly of Izeera." Hildegard commented.

"She deserves every word." Lyall replied. "A brave adventurer with a heart of gold. I only wish I had such courage. Still, I will help in any way I can."

"About that..." Izeera said, rubbing the back of her head.

"You need a place to stay for the night, don't you?" Lyall asked.

"Izeera thanks you for your hospitality." said the Khajiit.

Quickly, the group headed into Lyall's house. Once they were in there, the Dunmer woman set about to creating a meal. To Izeera's dismay, it was soup with cabbage in it. Izeera despised cabbage. Still, food was food, especially when it was made by Lyall.

"So, Izeera," Lyall inquired as she carried the bowls of soup over to the table, "Who are your friends?"

"The Altmer priest is Shame." Izeera replied, "The Nord with the big hammer is Hildegard Ironhead."

"Oh." Lyall said. "I assume you're still doing the sell-sword thing? It's good that you're not doing it alone. It's so dangerous. I worry about you."

"Anyone who gets past Izeera's magic is fodder for her axe." the Khajiit said with a confident smile.

"You are so full of yourself, cat." Hildegard muttered.

"Don't call her that." Lyall said with a frown. "Izeera is a Khajiit, not a common housecat."

The Dunmer got a dreamy look in her eyes as she continued, "I've seen her strength. She saved me from a sabre cat. She was so brave."

Hildegard suddenly coughed, hiding the word "Lovers!" in her cough. Lyall didn't seem to notice, but Izeera shot her a glare. Shame merely sighed and said, "Yes, Izeera certainly isn't lacking in courage.

"Yes, Izeera is brave." the Khajiit said. "Izeera is also hungry. Time to eat."

With that, Izeera dipped her spoon into the cabbage soup. She lifted it to her face and the smell hit her nose. She did her best not to gag. She slipped the spoon into her mouth and tried even harder not to vomit. Cabbage was so disgusting! Still, like the tough mercenary that she was, she managed to choke it down. She hated cabbage, but she also hated hurting Lyall's feelings. Lyall was so good to her, always helping Izeera whenever she came to Windhelm. She cared for the Dunmer just slightly more than she hated cabbage. Just slightly. Izeera really, really hated cabbage. Hildegard, however, seemed to delight in eating just about anything. Nords did not seem to be particularly picky eaters. Izeera was almost envious. The de facto leader of the group may have had an iron stomach, but she did not have a blind tongue. One of these days, she would have to gift Lyall with some nice meat and vegetables the next time she visited Windhelm.

Once the group was done eating, it was time to discuss sleeping accomodations. Izeera knew that Lyall's house had two beds. One of them belonged to her brother, who had unfortunately died from illness while he was away. Two beds, four people. Izeera watched Lyall, awaiting the Dunmer's decision. "Hildegard, Shame, you can share my brother's bed."

"Are you sure that this is wise?" Hildegard asked, a note of amusement coloring her voice.

"I see no problem in it. A Nord and an Altmer? Surely nothing would happen." Lyall replied, blissfully ignorant of what had happened in the past. "Anyway, Izeera can sleep in my bed."

The Khajiit valliantly fought to repress the shit-eating grin that was threatening to erupt on her face. Just barely, she managed to tone it down to a smile. "Izeera thanks you for your hospitality" the spellsword- spellaxe?- said.

So Hildegard and Shame shared Lyall's brother's bed. As predicted by Lyall, absolutely nothing happened. It was still slightly awkward, though, considering what had happened recently. Izeera, free of her armor, lay next to Lyall, spooning her. By the time the Dunmer had begun to snore softly, the Khajiit was nearing sleep herself. Half-asleep and not truly aware of whether she was dreaming or not, Izeera buried her nose in Lyall's dark locks and nuzzled the back of her head. As she finally drifted off into sleep, Izeera noted that her friend smelled faintly of soap and had the scent of something that was uniquely Lyall. The Khajiit then slipped into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.


	3. Road to Riften

Chapter 3: Road to Riften

"Are you sure that you sent a courier to reserve a spot at the inn?" Lost-In-The-Forest asked.

"Yes, I did," Sparcticus replied, "Now stop asking!"

"Good. I will be relieved to find the reservations set in the name of Lost-In-The-Forest." The Argonian said with a sigh.

"That isn't the name I reserved the rooms in." the Dremora said with a smirk.

"Oh? What name did you use this time?" the mage asked. "Incontinentus Buttocks?"

"Don't be stupid, Mortal." Sparkticus replied, "I said that I wouldn't reserve rooms in that name again."

"Good." Lost-In-The-Forest said before asking, "Which one of your aliases did you use?"

A wicked grin appeared on the Dremora's face. Lost-In-The-Forest somehow knew that this would not be good. Without hesitating at all, Sparkticus replied, "Biggus Dickus."

Lost-In-The-Forest managed to hold back a snicker. Instead, she rolled her yellow eyes and said, "You're terrible."

For a while, the two travellers continued following the road. Twice, they were accosted by bandits. Sparkticus dispatched most of them. Lost-In-The-Forest took out the rest with a conjured blade. As she dismissed her blade, the Argonian couldn't help but comment. "You know, for a Dremora, you're really sarcastic."

"I am a master of the sharp blade." Sparkticus replied. "It only makes sense for my wit to be just as sharp."

"Yes, but you strangled one of them and ripped off another's manhood so he would bleed to death." Lost-In-The-Forest deadpanned.

"You said that I could kill them in any manner I saw fit." the Dremora said.

"Except raping someone to death." Lost-In-The-Forest corrected. "That is where I draw the line."

"The fact that the concept of raping someone to death even occurred to you proves that you are, at heart, ruthless." Sparkticus commented.

"I'm not sure whether I should be flattered or offended." the Argonian sighed.

"Take it as you will." Sparkticus said.

"Don't make me regret it." Lost-In-The-Forest said.

"Admit it." the Dremora said insistantly. "The variety of ways in which I kill enemies entertains you."

"You're insane." the Argonian replied.

"You're the one who chose to travel with a Dremora." Sparkticus said with a shrug.

"My threat to make you look like a Bosmer still stands." Lost-In-The-Forest threatened her companion.

"I know you, mortal." the Dremora said with a smirk. "You are going to change your mind the moment we arrive and use your illusions to make me look like an Imperial instead."

"An Imperial named Biggus Dickus." Lost-In-The-Forest said with a raised brow ridge. "What's next? Nastius Maximus?"

The smirk never leaving his face, Sparkticus said, "Who's terrible now?"

"Any words of advice, oh wise Dremora?" Lost-In-The-Forest snarked. "Perhaps something about your infinite sarcasm?"

"Well, life's a piece of shit when you look at it." said Dremora replied. "Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true. You'll see it's all a show, keep 'em laughing as you go. Just remember that the last laugh is on you. And always look on the bright side of life."

"You just pulled that out of your ass, didn't you?" Lost-In-The-Forest accused. "That sounds nothing like well-thought-out advice."

"You know me well, Mortal." Sparkticus said. "You know me well."

* * *

"Are we there yet?" the Dremora said out of nowhere

"Shut up, Sparkticus. You know that we're not there." Lost-In-The-Forest replied

"Are we there yet?" Sparkticus asked again.

"No, we are not there yet." the Argonian said once more.

"Are we-"

Lost-In-The-Forest stopped where she stood, turned around, placed her hands on her full, voluptuous hips and said, "You're doing this just to mess with me, now cut it out."

Sparkticus smirked and folded his arms across his broad, armored chest. He let out a smooth, dark chuckle and said, "Have we not established over the course of our association, Mortal, that I enjoy toying with you?"

"You don't need to be so childish." Lost-In-The-Forest replied. "It's just... it just sounds _wrong_ to hear the phrase 'are we there yet' coming from the lips of a Dremora."

"Many things about me could be interperated by your society as 'wrong'." Sparkticus said. "The same could be applied to you."

"I suppose so." Lost-In-The-Forest said with a sigh. She then started walking again. Sparkticus, as always, followed her.

"_I_ have no shame for what I do." the Dremora said. "I delight in battle. I relish the dying screams of my enemies. I enjoy spilling blood."

"I know this already." Lost-In-The-Forest said. "Why are you saying this again? We've already established that. It's the way you are. You're a Dremora."

"I am what I am, Mortal, but we are not just what we are. Power changes things, as you know very well, mage."

"I suppose power does that. Power is what led to my summoning you and the beginning of our association." the Argonian said. "You're a Daedra with exceptional combat skills and a mighty blade. I'm an Argonian who has gained power through hard work and being exceptionally clever."

"Yet you do not fear this power like some Mortals do." the Dremora commented. "As you should, you have made this power your own. Ruthlessness is the key."

"No, I would say that cleverness is." Lost-In-The-Forest argued. "There is a saying: knowledge is power."

"You summon a sword to battle alongside a Dremora. Ruthlessness." Sparkticus retorted.

"It's funny." Lost-In-The-Forest commented. "The daughter of a florist, out in the middle of Skyrim, discussing power with a Daedra."

The two walked in silence for a while. It seemed to go on for about ten minutes before Sparkticus spoke up. "Mortal."

"What is it?" the mage asked.

A wicked smile appeared on the Dremora's dark lips as he asked, "Are we there yet?"

'

* * *

The duo continued to travel quietly when, out of the blue, Sparkticus asked, "What is the deal with Mortals and masturbation?"

Lost-In-The-Forest did a double-take. "I beg your pardon?"

"Nords do it often enough, Khajiit do it constantly, and Altmer seem to abhor doing it at all." Sparkticus elaborated.

"Where did this come from?" the Argonian mage asked. "And how do you know all this?"

Lost-In-The-Forest paused a moment and added, "Do I even _want_ to know?"

"You did not ask my question, Mortal." Sparkticus said with a frown.

"I'm not really sure." Lost-In-The-Forest admitted. "I'm especially befuddled about what you revealed to me about High Elves. I don't know. Maybe they believe that every sperm is sacred, that every sperm is great? That when a sperm is wasted, some god or another gets quite irate?"

"One would think that your gods would have better things to do than to watch you," he paused to come up with an appropriate euphemism, "slap the salmon."

Lost-In-The-Forest was unable to suppress a snicker as she said, "I haven't heard that one before."

"I'm sure that the annoying preacher from Whiterun would have something to say about this conversation." Sparkticus said with a smirk.

Lost-In-The-Forest frowned thoughtfully for a moment before snapping her fingers and saying, "I've got it."

The Dremora cocked his head quizically. The Argonian, doing her best immitation of Heimskr, belted out, "Ceiling Talos watches you masturbate!"

This time, both of them laughed.

* * *

They had been travelling for quite some time, but they still weren't close to Riften. They were a bit leery of entering eastern Skyrim, though. The Nords there weren't exactly fond of Argonians. Lost-In-The-Forest let out a sigh. This was quite annoying. After a while, she felt the familiar sensation in her lower abdomen indicating a full bladder. "I have to go pee." Lost-In-The-Forest said. "Keep an ear out for wild animals."

"Sure, sure." Sparkticus said. "Make like a bear and piss in the woods."

Lost-In-The-Forest glared at the Dremora and headed off into the bushes. She lowered her pants and lifted up her conjurer's robes as she squatted down to do her business. As she emptied her bladder, the Argonian let out a relieved sigh. Just as she had finished up, she heard a twig snap. She immediately turned around to see a Stormcloak patrol. Lost-In-The-Forest quickly left the wooded area and headed back to the road to see Sparkticus. The Dremora lifted a brow and asked, "What it that disturbs you this time, Mortal?"

"Stormcloaks." Lost-In-The-Forest said "They almost caught me with my pants down. Literally."

"Can I kill them?" Sparkticus asked "You said that I could kill our enemies in any way I see fit."

"They're not our enemies." the mage said. "Well, they kind of are, but killing this patrol wouldn't accomplish anything."

As she said this, the Stormcloaks exited the wooded area. They immediately looked down on the Argonian. Of course, that wasn't hard, considering that she was five feet and two inches in height. The Argonian and the Dremora were about to walk away when one of the Stormcloaks said, "Halt!"

The two travellers turned around. The Stormcloak soldier took a quick look at the two and said, "They're not Imperials. It's just some lizard and her pet."

Sparkticus leaned towards Lost-In-The-Forest's ear and whispered, "Can I kill them?"

"No!" Lost-In-The-Forest hissed.

"Where are you going, Argonian?" One of them asked.

"Riften." Lost-In-The-Forest said. "Just visiting a friend."

It was then that the Argonian noticed that the Stormcloak soldier speaking to her didn't seem to be looking at her face. He seemed to be staring at her admittedly very large breasts. "Hey!" Lost-In-The-Forest snapped. "My face is up here!"

Not missing a beat, the Stormcloak soldier replied, "All the better reason not to look at it."

The Argonian glared at the Stormcloaks for a moment before turning to the Dremora and saying, "Okay, _now_ you can kill them."

* * *

As the two travellers finished dragging the rebels' bodies into the bushes, Sparkticus couldn't help but comment. He chuckled and said, "And you said that you weren't ruthless."

Lost-In-The-Forest raised a brow ridge. "Pardon?"

With the last corpse well-hidden, the Dremora stood up straight. He then clarified, "Just minutes ago, you ordered me to kill three Nords in cold blood because one of them was ogling your chest."

"I didn't order you to kill them." Lost-In-The-Forest retorted, "You asked to kill them and I gave you permission. It's a completely different thing."

"The fact remains that you used me to kill someone who offended you. Admit it, Mortal: you're more ruthless than you think you are." Sparkticus said with a smirk.

"I kill because I have to, not because I enjoy it." the Argonian argued.

Sparkticus grinned wickedly and leaned in until they were face to face. Considering her petite size and his great height, he had to practically bend over. The Dremora's deep voice was as smooth as silk as he said, "Are you trying to convince me, _Lost-In-The-Forest_," He'd used her name. How bizarre! As he said her name, he enunciated every word. "or are you trying to convince yourself?"

The mage met the Dremora's gaze unflinchingly. This staring contest went on for mere moments, though it seemed to stretch on into eternity. Finally, Sparkticus stood up and laughed. It was a booming, wicked laugh. A weaker person might have trembled, but Lost-In-The-Forest stood firm. She was not afraid of him. Both of them were very stubborn. "We are not talking about this." the mage said firmly. "Let's just get back on the road."

For the most part, she treated Sparkticus as an equal. She did not treat him as a mere weapon as some mages did. It wasn't often that she had to pull rank on him, but she certainly wouldn't hesitate to if he kept pushing the issue. Thankfully, the Dremora followed quietly when the Argonian began to walk down the road again.

* * *

It always took a long time to get anywhere on foot, but they were finally approaching Riften. Of course, it was still several miles away. In the time since Lost-In-The-Forest had essentially told Sparkticus to shut up, the Dremora hadn't said a word. The silence was starting to grate on the Argonian's nerves. It just didn't seem natural for the smart-mouthed Daedra to be so quiet. She hoped that something might happen soon to make him talk again. Otherwise, she would have to initiate a conversation, and that might be awkward. Lost-In-The-Forest let out a sigh and continued walking. The sooner they got to Riften, the better. They had travelled a long way, too long of a distance just to resupply. The excuse of meeting a friend in Riften wasn't entirely accurate. It was more of a casual acquaintance, at most. Lost-In-The-Forest had business in Riften. She just hadn't told her Dremora minion-turned-companion exactly what that business was. Did he deserve to know? She supposed it was really just her business. She had her own secrets, but she figured that he was bound to find out sooner or later, once her business was concluded. So the two of them continued in silence. After a while, yet again, nature called. Lost-In-The-Forest had to pee. "I have to pee." she said. "Keep an ear out for danger."

The Dremora nodded and the Argonian headed off into the bushes. Once again, she lowered her pants, squatted, and pulled up her robes. She let out a sigh as she relieved herself. When she was done, she wiped herself, stood up, and pulled her pants up. It was then that she heard a familiar growling noise. She was then hit from behind by a swipe of a bear's paw. She did not land in the spot where she relieved herself, but she was close enough to smell it. The dazed, wounded Argonian attempted to summon her bound weapon, but she was too dazed to properly reach into herself to access her magicka. Shit. She was going to die. She was going to be killed by a bear. What a humiliating way to die! Suddenly, she heard something charging into the bushes. A familiar voice bellowed, "Now you suffer!"

Sparkticus! Lost-In-The-Forest was filled with relief. As he swung at the bear, the Dremora shouted, "You will bleed!"

With one final swipe, the bear was slain. Sparkticus sheathed his sword and said, "There could be no other end."

Slowly, the Argonian attempted to get up, but it was diffucult. She looked up and saw a hand presented. She gripped the hand and, with Sparkticus' aid, she stood up. Lost-In-The-Forest took her bag off, reached into it, and pulled out a healing potion. She removed the stopper and quickly downed the liquid. It was not a pleasant taste, but she could feel her wounds closing. No doubt there would be scars, but her robes would cover them. Unfortunately, the back of her robes was somewhat tattered. Still, the fact remained that she owed her life to Sparkticus. She glanced over at him. The look he gave her said it all. She was in charge. She had saved his ass enough times. He was returning the favor. "Thanks." the mage said, dusting off the front of her robes.

Sparkticus looked at her thoughtfully and said, "You are welcome, Mortal."

"Well," Lost-In-The-Forest said, "we'd best get back on the road."

So they did just that.

* * *

It was nightfall by the time they arrived at Riften. Out of sight, the Argonian used her illusion magic to make Sparkticus appear to be an Imperial. The guards attempted to swindle them, but a quick statement of Lost-In-The-Forest's suspicions convinced the guards to let them in. As soon as they entered Riften, they recieved a few threats from a stranger. Lost-In-The-Forest acknowledged the threats and continued into the city. They quickly located the inn. Sparkticus walked over to the inkeeper and said, "We have reserved rooms in the name of Biggus Dickus."

The inkeeper eyeballed them and said, "Welcome to Riften, Biggus Dickus."

After they were shown where their rooms were, the two went to there respective beds. Quite tired from their travels, both Dremora and Argonian slept soundly.

In the morning, the two of them purchased some food from the inkeeper and ate a basic breakfast. Now, it was time to play the waiting game. Lost-In-The-Forest's contact said that she would arrive at noon. In the mean time, the Argonian and the Dremora finally decided to talk to each other again. "The food is terrible here." Sparkticus complained.

"It's to be expected." Lost-In-The-Forest replied. "It's not the freshest food, but it's edible."

"I still don't like it." the disguised Dremora said with a frown.

"Oh, quit sulking" Lost-In-The-Forest said.

"My kind do not _sulk_." Sparkticus snarled.

"You were sulking. I know sulking when I see it." the Argonian said with a shrug.

The disguised Daedra crossed his arms over his chest, frowning. He then looked away from the Argonian. Yep. Definitely sulking. Lost-In-The-Forest tried, unsuccessfully, not to smile. After a few hours of waiting, the mage's contact finally arrived. It was a petite Breton woman in apprentice mage robes. Sparkticus' eyes immediately widened in horror. Not her! Anyone but her! Fortunately, the woman did not recognize him. Even if Lost-In-The-Forest hadn't written her, the Breton would recognize the Argonian from prior encounters. "Monica." Lost-In-The-Forest said evenly.

"Hello, Lost-In-The-Forest!" Monica said with a smile.

"Do you have what I'm looking for?" the Argonian asked.

"Of course I do." the Breton replied. "Do you have the money?"

"Of course I do." Lost-In-The-Forest said. "Two hundred Septims, just as asked."

The conjurer and illusionist set a bag of gold on the table. The less experienced mage reached into the pocket and pulled out a spellbook. She then took the bag of gold and pocketed it. To Lost-In-The-Forest's dismay, the Breton did not leave. "So," Monica inquired, "How is Sparky?"

The Dremora tried not to cringe at the use of the dreaded nickname. Lost-In-The-Forest glanced back at her companion before returning her attention to the conversation. "I wouldn't know." the Argonian lied. "I haven't summoned him in quite some time."

"Oh." Monica said, clearly disappointed. "I suppose this isn't the time or place for you to summon him."

Lost-In-The-Forest nodded. "When I summon him again, I'll tell him you said hi."

A look of utter joy blossomed on Monica's face. Sparkticus' heart filled with dread. To him, this woman who so admired him was incredibly creepy. Whenever she saw him, she would follow him around in an almost stalker-like manner. Encounters with her were one of the few things that the Dremora truly feared. Monica, not even noticing the man who appeared to be an Imperial, entheusiastically shook Lost-In-The-Forest's hand and said, "Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome." the Argonian replied. "It was nice to see you."

"It was nice to see you, too! Take care!" Monica said.

The Breton then turned and left the tavern. As soon as she was gone, Sparkticus let out a relieved sigh. "Once again, Mortal," he said, "I owe you."

"I believe there's an expression: you scratch my back, I scratch yours." Lost-In-The-Forest said with a smile. Between the two of them, there was a great deal of back-scratching. Sparkticus' had saved Lost-In-The-Forest's ass more than she could count. The same applied to the many times the Argonian had saved the Dremora's ass. There was a lot of ass-saving involved.

"So," Sparkticus said as Lost-In-The-Forest read the spellbook, "What sort of spell is this that we have travelled so far for?"

As soon as Lost-In-The-Forest had absorbed the spell, she replied, "Promise you won't laugh."

"I can't make any promises." the Dremora admitted honestly.

The Argonian grimaced and said, "It's a spell that conjures sweetrolls and fires them at enemies. It's supposed to do a lot of damage."

Sparkticus chuckled. That chuckle turned into a laugh. It was deep, pleasant laugh. Lost-In-The-Forest glared at him and said, "Oh, shut up."

The Dremora chuckled once again and said, "As you wish, Mortal."


	4. Hate

Chapter 4: Hate

When morning came, Izeera felt something tickling her nose. When she opened her eyes, she saw that her face was buried in buried in Lyall's hair. The spellsword's arm was wrapped around the Dunmer woman. Izeera could feel Lyall's breath tickling her throat. Quietly, the Khajiit removed her arm from the other woman. Lyall began to stir, mumbling softly. Izeera froze, still practically nose-to-nose with the Dunmer woman. Even for friends, this was far too intimate. It was all the Khajiit could do to hold back a sigh of relief when Lyall rolled over, still sound asleep. Izeera then quietly slid out of bed. She tried to recall the last time it was when she'd had a bath. She generally didn't have to bathe much because she didn't sweat much. Her palms and feet sweated, but that was it. It had been less than a week since her last bath, so she was probably okay. It's not like she licked herself. She was a Khajiit, not a housecat. All she had to do was give herself a quick brush every now and then to keep her fur looking neat. She also needed to keep her mane looking good, too. That was why she kept her brown mane in box braids. As long as the fawn Khajiit kept her mane, face, and hands clean, she could go for a while without bathing. The thing was, she really liked being clean. Unfortunately, the reality was that she could not bathe as often as she would like. She did sometimes have to put her foot down and insist that she have a bath at least once a week. She would insist that they all bathe. Izeera, Shame, and Hildegard had all seen eachother naked. For a Nord, Hildegard seemed to be faring surprisingly well with the whole situation. For the first month and a half or so of her nearly two months with the group, the Nord was convinced that the Khajiit was sleeping with Shame. Izeera denied it repeatedly, but Hildegard refused to believe it. It took a while to convince the Nord, but eventually she saw the truth: there was absolutely no sexual attraction between Izeera and Shame. Even if Shame had been attracted to her, Izeera would never be attracted to him. It wasn't because he was an elf and it wasn't because he was a priest. It had something to do with the Khajiit's sexual preferences. Though her one-time seduction of Hildegard could easily be dismissed as mere curiosity on the Khajiit's part, there was a certain truth that Izeera could not deny from herself. She was attracted to females. She was attracted so exclusively to women to the extent that she was not attracted to males at all. It wasn't something that she bragged about. It was something she had been trying to deny for almost her entire adult life. Though Izeera would never be anything more than friends with Hildegard, much to the Nord's relief, the Khajiit's experience still cemented something that she had been trying to deny for years: she would rather bed a female than a male. Izeera sighed softly and glanced over at the still-sleeping Lyall. Quietly, Izeera headed downstairs, where she equipped her gear and headed to the other room to wake Hildegard and Shame, who were sleeping like two normal people: neither cuddling nor lying on opposite sides of the bed. "Be quiet." Izeera whispered. "Get ready and we will leave soon."

Once everyone was ready, Izeera wrote a quick note, thanking Lyall for her hospitality, and left it on the table in the main room, along with enough gold to pay for their stay and more than enough to pay for the food. She felt bad about leaving Lyall without saying goodbye, but each time Izeera came to Windhelm, saying goodbye to the Dunmer woman just got harder and harder.'

* * *

Though Skyrim had its problems, one thing that Izeera was always grateful for was the fact that there were always things to do for money. Usually, 'things to do' involved killing someone or something. In this particular instance, they had to kill a bandit leader in the Lost Knife Hideout. Weren't they a bit overqualified for this? A job was a job, though. Besides, any gold they found while they were killing the bandits would automatically be theirs. That would most certainly be a plus. One of Izeera's ears twitched. It was fortunate that the sound of her multiple earrings hitting eachother did not make much noise. Not that it mattered. They weren't inside the cave anyway. It took them a while to locate it, in fact. It wasn't until Shame tripped and landed in the pond nearby. When he saw the slaughterfish eggs, he immediately scrambled out of the pond. There were no slaughterfish in the pond. Izeera let out a laugh. After that, the cave was easy to spot. Just follow the trail of impaled corpses. Izeera pulled her hood up over her head and said, "Let's go."

Izeera drew her axe and prepared a fireball spell. Shame prepared an armor spell and a healing spell. Hildegard, of course, was ready to use her warhammer. One by one, the trio headed into the cave. Over the sound of the water flowing through the stream that went through the cave, Izeera could hear two bandits talking about wrestling a sabre cat that they have caged. It was also mentioned that someone supposedly killed a cavebear with their bare hands. Izeera rolled her eyes. She opened her mouth, prepared to quietly whisper her plan, when suddenly a roar erupted from behind her. Hildegard charged at one of the bandits, warhammer at the ready. "That stupid Nord!" Hildegard hissed, unsheathing her axe and charging into the fray as well. Shame cast the armor spell upon himself and drew his mace. By the time the Nord woman had buried her hammer in the mushy remains of the bandit's skull, the other bandit had gotten to the cages and released several caged animals. "This," Izeera snarled, firing a fireball down the throat of a sabre cat, "is why we need a _plan_, Hildegard!"

One by one, the animals quickly fell. When Izeera pulled her axe free of another skull, she looked up to see the bandit fleeing. "Oh, no you don't!" the Khajiit whispered. She released another fireball at the bandit. He was dead before he hit the ground. Hildegard seemed to spot something hanging from the belt of the bandit that was killed by Izeera's spell. It was a key. The Nord woman immediately took it.

Izeera gave the room a quick once-over before spotting a bridge. The de facto leader of the group pointed in that direction before heading over the bridge and following the stream. The stream led into a large cavern with an underground lake. Hildegard was about to step ahead of Izeera when the Khajiit placed her arm in front of the Nord, halting her. With her other hand, Izeera pointed up at a set of bone chimes. Had Hildegard blindly rushed ahead, the bone charms would have alerted any bandits that might have been listening. Hildegard swallowed audibly, but proceeded to follow the Khajiit's lead. On the island, patrolling the scaffolding, were two bandits. "We take these ones at a distance." Izeera whispered, preparing her fireball spell. Hildegard nodded and drew her bow. The Nord woman drew an arrow, aimed, and, at the Khajiit's signal, fired. Spell and arrow flew through the air, each simultaneously hitting and killing a bandit. With the two bandits dead, the group proceeded on. The next bandit was taken out quietly, but the remaining ones, thanks to Hildegard, were alerted. More direct measures had to be taken to silence the attacking bandits. When they found a chest, they took the loot. They would divvy it up among themselves later. For now, there was a job to complete as they headed to the next area.

Once inside, they could hear several bandits chatting. Something about the leader getting drunk and challenging the men to duels. Hildegard looked at Izeera quizzically. The Khajiit nodded. A look of glee erupted on her face. Her hammer at the ready, she charged with a roar. Izeera followed her into the tavern-like space, killing whatever got past Hildegard. The spellsword figured that she'd let the warrior have some fun. Once the bandits were taken care of, the group took a quick break to let Shame heal any wounds they might have recieved. Izeera made a quick side-trip up to the bandits' living quarters, where she snagged a copy of _Orsinium and the Orcs_. The Khajiit then swaggered back into the tavern-like area and said, "Izeera is ready for her adoring public."

Shame's amber eyes rolled as he finished healing a rather ugly-looking gash in Hildegard's side. It didn't seem lethal, but it must have been causing the Nord woman quite a bit of pain. "You know," Izeera said, "When we get to town, Izeera could make you a new set of armor."

"This set belonged to my mother." Hildegard replied, "I'm keeping it."

"All right," the Khajiit said calmly, "but if you want to keep working with Shame and Izeera, you need to either learn an armor spell, get better armor, or learn to dodge."

"I do _not_ need to use magic!" Hildegard insisted indignantly.

"Learn to dodge, then." Izeera said, "And stop charging in like an idiot."

The group's unofficial leader ended the conversation, giving the Nord woman no time to argue. Hildegard looked expectantly at Shame, who shrugged, as if to say 'don't look at me for answers', before following after the Khajiit. Letting out a sigh, the Nord woman followed as well. When they finally did find the bandit leader, he was in an arena-like area. He kept taunting them from where he stood in his cage. Hildegard scowled and, before Izeera could react, unlocked the cage. The door flew open, knocking the Nord woman on her back. The bandit leader charged out. He went after the smallest of the group, Izeera, first. Izeera was not a tiny woman. She was five feet, eight inches tall and fairly solidly built. It spoke for the bandit leader's strength that when Izeera brought her axe up to block his strike, it almost knocked her over. Before the bandit leader could swing again, he was struck from behind by Shame's mace. All it seemed to do was stun him. When the bandit leader briefly turned around to face the Altmer, Izeera put her axe away in its loop at her belt and put some distance between herself and the bandit leader. When she saw what looked like the group's leader _fleeing_, the look on Hildegard's face was fairly priceless. Still, the Nord woman got up, grabbed her hammer, and charged, using her hammer to help Shame take on the bandit leader. Izeera may have been running, but she didn't get far. This was not because she was stopped in an attempt to flee. No, she stopped of her own free will, turned around, and glared at the bandit leader. In one open palm, a flame appeared. The other hand, instead of drawing the axe, called forth a ball of flame as well. The Khajiit brought the flames together. The flames mingled, increasing in heat and magnitude. She held the flames together just a few seconds longer before releasing a bowerful bolt of flames at the bandit leader. He seemed to try to go after Izeera, but Shame and Hildegard kept him quite busy. With the bandit leader occupied with the priest and the warrior, there really wasn't much he could do to fend off repeated wounding from the spellsword's Destruction magic. Finally, the bandit leader saw an opening. He swung at Hildegard's legs, hitting her and knocking her down. He then ran, like the coward he was. The Khajiit's copper eyes focused intensely on the bandit leader as she prepared one last dual-cast fire spell. It hit him in the back before he could get far. With the bandit leader dead, Izeera ran over to the still-downed Hildegard. It was plain to see why the Nord woman was still down. The injury where the warrior had been hit was deep. Had it not been for her armor, it would have probably gone to the bone. To her credit, Hildegard was holding together quite nicely. There were relatively few cries of pain and more cries of, "If you do not save my leg, Elf, I will see to it that you never have children!"

As Hildegard said this, she yanked Shame's white-blonde hair. "You're making it hard to concentrate on healing you when you keep pulling my hair." the Altmer replied with an annoyed tone to his voice, though he still did his best. Golden light emerged from Shame's hands as he held them over the wound, which slowly knitted shut. Hildegard still complained the entire time. Instead of thanking him when he was done, Hildegard instead asked, "What took so long?"

Shame brushed his white-blonde hair back and said, "For the love of Stendarr, Hildegard! Izeera has killed things that didn't complain that much!"

"Why did you use Izeera an example?" Izeera asked.

"Because, over the course of our friendship, you've killed more things than I have." Shame replied.

"Oh, yes." Izeera said, sounding rather pleased with herself, "This is true. Come. Let us leave this place. Our money awaits."

* * *

Hildegard sat in Candlehearth Hall, enjoying what was, in her opinion, a well-deserved drink. She wondered how Shame and Izeera fared as they were presumably recieving the group's pay. Her question was soon answered by the door swinging open and the Altmer and the Khatjiit walking in. Izeera appeared to be in a particularly foul mood. "What happened?" Hildegard asked.

"They wouldn't pay us." Izeera snarled. "They accused Izeera of stealing the bounty letter and said said, 'how do we know that the elf is not a Thalmor agent in disguise?'"

Shame sighed and said, "May Stendarr have mercy on them when their cruelty comes back to them."

Izeera let out a sigh and patted Shame on the back. "You are too good, Shame." she said with a smile.

"What are we going to do?" Hildegard asked the group's de facto leader.

"We are going to get out of Windhelm." Izeera replied. "Izeera can't stand to spend another minute in this city. It is fortunate that Izeera has a hunch that this place will change soon."

Hildegard nodded. Izeera's hunches were never wrong. It was very, very strange. In the Nord woman's opinion, this strange thing couldn't be explained by the Khajiit's magery. Izeera's magic was strictly offensive. Still, Hildegard had no explanation for the accuracy of the Khajiit's hunches.

"How do you think it will change?" Shame asked.

"Izeera has a hunch that the Jarl will be dead within a month." the Izeera replied ominously. "Izeera is not threatening him. Izeera just has a hunch."

Hildegard raised her drink and declared, "To change!"

Shame and Izeera simultaneously said, "To change."

"Now," the Khajiit said, "Let us leave this place!"

"Aren't you going to say goodbye to Lyall?" Shame asked.

"Izeera cannot say goodbye to Lyall." Izeera said with a sad sigh. "With such a friend, it is hard to say goodbye."

"Where will we go this time?" Hildegard inquired

"Solitude." said Izeera. "Less likely that we will be killed in our sleep."

"Izeera, you're overreacting." Hildegard groaned.

"Izeera is not overreacting." the Khajiit insisted. "Finish your drink, Hildegard. We're leaving."


	5. Sticky Fingers Part 1

Chapter 5: Sticky Fingers Part 1

**A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I've been asked a few times just how big Lost-In-The-Forest's breasts are. If I had to give a number, I'd say that her bra size is around 36GG. I believe that qualifies as "holy shit".**

* * *

"So," Sparkticus inquired, "Where are we going this time?"

"Markarth." Lost-In-The-Forest replied. "A friend of mine is studying the architecture there. I'm going to drop in and surprise her."

"Pleasure before business?" the Dremora said with a smirk.

"I think I've earned it." the mage said.

"It's a long walk to Markarth." said Sparkticus.

"That's why we're taking the carriage." Lost-In-The-Forest replied.

"Pity." Sparkticus said with a shrug. "I was looking forward to having fun with the Forsworn."

"We all know what your definition of 'fun' is." Lost-In-The-Forest said.

"Don't deny it." the Dremora said insistantly, "You enjoy some of the same things I do. Music, sex, and slaughter."

"I enjoy a good song and I'm not afraid of fighting, but to say that I enjoy slaughter is a bit excessive." Lost-In-The-Forest replied calmly, "As for the sex, it will never be with you."

"Indeed." Sparkticus said sagely. "That would be highly unprofessional."

"At least we agree on that." the Argonian mage said with a smile.

"Though I would not blame you at all if it is my handsome visage that you envision when you touch yourself." the Dremora said with a wicked grin.

Lost-In-The-Forest glared at Sparkticus and said, "You're terrible."

"I didn't hear you say 'no'." Sparkticus said, still smirking.

"Do I have to say it out loud?" Lost-In-The-Forest asked. "Fine. I, Lost-In-The-Forest, do not think about my minion and companion, Sparkticus, when I touch myself."

A booming laugh erupted from Sparkticus. "I did not expect you to say that out loud, Mortal." the Dremora chuckled. "I believe you, though."

"Not that it matters." Lost-In-The-Forest sighed. "Some people assume that, because they see me with so many men- you in various disguises- that I'm a loose woman."

"Want me to kill them?" Sparkticus asked.

"No, but thanks for the offer." Lost-In-The-Forest said with a smile.

"Any time, Mortal." the Dremora said with an evil-looking grin. "Any time."

* * *

After Lost-In-The-Forest made Sparkticus look like a male Redguard, it was proving to be a fairly uneventful ride. Unventful and annoyingly quiet. It was only a matter of time before one of them spoke. "Are we there yet?" Sparkticus asked.

"Not this again!" Lost-In-The-Forest groaned.

Sparkticus let out a wicked laugh. Lost-In-The-Forest grumbled under her breath about childish Daedra. The Dremora continued to laugh. Unbeknownst to the two travellers, the coachman did a full-body shudder at the unnerving sound of the horrible laugh. It was fortunate that it went unnoticed, otherwise Sparkticus would have mocked the man for the entire ride.

"We should have the coachman make a detour to Whiterun." Sparkticus suggested. "I would love to see the preacher's face when you shout, 'Ceiling Talos watches you masturbate'."

"I am not going to shout that." Lost-In-The-Forest said with a frown.

"Fine." Sparkticus said. "I will."

"You'd better not." the Argonian snapped.

The Dremora held his hands up defensively and said, "Fine, fine. I'll just wait until you're drunk. Then one of us will say it."

"You're terrible." Lost-In-The-Forest said with a sigh.

"You have a talent for stating the obvious, Mortal." Sparkticus snarked.

"Oh, shut up." the Argonian groaned.

* * *

"-and if I hear about it again, I might put an actual arrow in his knee." Sparkticus finished.

"You don't have any arrows." Lost-In-The-Forest replied. "Or a bow."

"You know that you're sick of it, too." Sparkticus growled.

"Guards are annoying, but they aren't my enemies." Lost-In-The-Forest said sternly. "Therefore, you will not harm them."

"One of these days, one of them will mock you about someone supposedly stealing your sweetroll and you will be tempted to use your sweetroll-flinging spell on them." A still-annoyed Sparkticus said. "This I swear, Mortal."

"Just because I'm tempted to do something doesn't mean that I'll act on it." Lost-In-The-Forest replied. "Contrary to what some might think, I'm a civilized being."

Just as the Argonian finished her sentance, the carriage finally stopped. They had arrived at Markarth. The two travellers got out of the carriage and headed in the direction of the gates. When they walked through the gates and into Riften, they were met with a now-familiar sight. Suddenly, a flash of beige appeared out of nowhere and tackled Lost-In-The-Forest to the ground. Sparkticus was about to draw his sword when giggles filled the air. A beige Argonian female, about a head taller than Lost-In-The-Forest and quite a bit smaller in the chest, stood up and helped the mage to her feet. "Neema!" Lost-In-The-Forest said joyfully. "It's wonderful to see you!"

"Likewise." Neema replied, "So, how have you been?"

"I've been great." Lost-In-The-Forest said with a smile. "I've been going from place to place, gathering and researching new spells, reporting my findings to the College."

"And finding yourself a man?" Neema added, elbowing Lost-In-The-Forest and glancing at Sparkticus.

"Oblivion, no!" Lost-In-The-Forest gasped, horrified. "That would be just... ew!"

"Got a problem with Redguards or something?" Neema asked, raising a brow ridge.

"It's not that." Lost-In-The-Forest explained, "It's just that the idea of us, like _that_, just... ew."

Sparkticus frowned and folded his arms over his chest. "It would be highly unprofessional." the disguised Dremora said with a frown, "But you didn't need to say it like that, _mage_."

"Don't worry," Neema paused, "Um, sorry. What was your name?"

"Achmet." Sparkticus provided.

Lost-In-The-Forest was borderline-surprised that her companion actually used a normal-sounding name. "Nice to meet you, Achmet."Neema said with a smile. "Anyway, don't worry. I'm sure that you'll find someone. Someone who isn't short and green with breasts the size of a High Elf's ego."

"They're not _that_ big." Lost-In-The-Forest huffed.

"Sweetheart, they're big enough to scare a dragon." Neema said, "Now come on, let's go to the inn for drinks. My treat."

* * *

Once they were in the inn, seated comfortably with their drinks, the real conversation started. "So," Neema asked, "What sort of spells have you acquired recently?"

"A sweetroll spell." Sparkticus said with a grin, before Lost-In-The-Forest could say anything.

"A sweetroll spell?" Neema said incredulously.

"Yes, a sweetroll spell." Lost-In-The-Forest said with a sigh. "It allows me to summon a sweetroll and fire it at my enemies. It's supposed to do a lot of damage."

"I hope I get a chance to see you use it!" the beige Argonian said excitedly. "It's not every day you see someone shoot a sweetroll at something!"

Deciding to change the subject, Lost-In-The-Forest asked, "So, what have you been up to, Neema?"

"Same old, same old." Neema replied. "As you know, I'm studying the architecture of this city. I won't bore you with details. From an outside, non-subjective point of view, this city is absolutely fascinating! Too bad the locals aren't that friendly, but I think they'll get used to me after I've been here long enough."

"It would be hard to study someplace if the locals don't like you." Lost-In-The-Forest agreed.

"Speaking of liking, your mother sent me a letter since she couldn't find you." Neema said.

Lost-In-The-Forest barely managed to hold back a groan. Her mother? Seriously? What did the woman want now? Keeping her voice even, the mage asked, "What did the letter say?"

"Oh, same as you'd expect. Worrying about you, begging you to give up Conjuration and come back to Imperial City, asking if you've found a man yet, that kind of thing." Neema replied. "She worries a lot. It is dangerous in Skyrim, especially with the war going on, but obviously you're doing fine."

"I can handle myself." Lost-In-The-Forest confirmed. "I didn't become a master Conjurer by being weak or careless."

"Obviously." Neema said. "I'll write to your mother and tell her that I saw you and you're just fine."

"I'd appreciate it." the Conjurer said with a smile.

"All right, then!" Neema said happily, "I know you've been here before, but would you like to see my favorite parts of the city?"

"Of course." Lost-In-The-Forest replied.

The trio quickly finished their drinks and left the inn.

* * *

"The market stalls?" Sparkticus observed, tilting his head quizically.

"Yes, the market stalls." Neema replied. "They're my favorite part of any city. So many flowing through the area! It's like it's the true heart of the city."

"Some people might disagree." Lost-In-The-Forest said.

"I'm an expert on these things." Neema insisted, "The market area often is the heart of many cities. The most people flow through it, just like blood through the heart of a living creature."

"You're a true romantic, Neema." Lost-In-The-Forest said with a laugh.

"Call me a dreamer." Neema said wistfully, "Some day, I will write books on architecture. I will create my own designs and people will want to live in the houses that I've designed."

"An Argonian architect?" Lost-In-The-Forest said with a quirk of her head before shrugging and saying, "It wouldn't be the strangest thing I've seen happen."

"Your mother would say that I'm crazy, but I still think that it would be wonderful- the idea that anybody who is anybody will want to live in a house designed by Neema."

Lost-In-The-Forest felt someone bump into her with a muttered apology. The green Argonian paid it no mind and continued her conversation with her friend. "Skyrim might not be the best place to apply the trade of an architect." Lost-In-The-Forest pointed out.

"True." Neema replied. "Still, I'd rather learn more about architecture before I start trying to design my own buildings."

"That's a good idea." Lost-In-The-Forest said. "I didn't really get into doing Conjuration spells until I knew more about them. Same principle, right?"

"Same principle." Neema confirmed.

"I see a jewelry stall." Lost-In-The-Forest observed. "Perhaps if I include that with the message, it might get my mother to calm down for a bit."

Neema laughed and said, "It's worth a shot."

Lost-In-The-Forest walked over to the vendor and said, "I'd like to make a purchase. Can you reccomend something for a gift for my mother?"

"Perhaps a silver necklace or a silver ring?" the vendor, a Redguard woman, suggested. "Easy to wear and soft against the skin."

"A silver necklace sounds good." Lost-In-The-Forest replied. The green Argonian reached into her satchel to pull out her coin purse, but she could not find it. She searched through the bag some more only to discover, to her dismay, that it was gone. Frantically, she looked about and noticed that not only was her money gone, but Sparkticus was gone as well. The mage searched for a possible escape route and noticed a dark alley that could easily provide an escape. Immediately, she headed down it. When she walked down the alley, she saw Sparkticus pinning a terrified Bosmer woman to the wall. "Sparkticus!" Lost-In-The-Forest barked.

"She's a thief!" Sparkticus snarled. He leaned in until he was face to face with the Bosmer woman. In the most chilling tone Lost-In-The-Forest ever heard, the disguised Dremora asked the Bosmer woman, "Do you know what I do to thieves?"

The accused thief bared her teeth defiantly. Before anyone could say anything, she brought her head forward, butting Sparkticus in the face. The Dremora swore in his native tongue, clutching his abused nose and releasing the thief, who attempted to flee. Before she could get far, she was hit by a spell. She immediately seemed to calm down. "Now," Lost-In-The-Forest said calmly, "Come back here and we can talk."

The Bosmer woman quietly walked over and stood between the mage and the Dremora, who was glaring at the thief and clutching his bleeding nose. "The spell prevents you from fleeing, but it won't last long." Lost-In-The-Forest said, still completely calm. "You know that you won't escape. Now, did you steal my money?"

"Yes." the Bosmer woman replied. "I took your money."

"Give it back." Lost-In-The-Forest said. "There are better ways to get money."

"Make me!" the Bosmer woman hissed, making a run for it.

Sparktacus managed to grab her before she got away. She kept struggling and let out a string of profanities. "Shall I kill her?" the Dremora asked eagerly.

"Get your hands off of me or I'll cut your dick off and feed it to you!" the Bosmer woman snarled. "Then I'll cut your tongue out and stuff it up your ass!"

"Oh, she's creative." Sparkticus said with a grin, despite the fact that blood was still dripping down his face. He brought his face close to hers and purred, "I like it."

"Oh, don't tell me this is turning you on!" Lost-In-The-Forest groaned.

"To be honest, I've slept with guys with worse lines." the Bosmer woman commented.

"Is that an offer, thief?" Sparkticus purred. "We can talk more about violent ways of killing people in a room at the inn, once you've given the money back."

The Bosmer woman eyed the man who appeared to be a Redguard male and said, "Eh, this won't be the first time I've slept with someone to get out of trouble. Are you paying for the room."

"She is." Sparkticus said, indicating the short Argonian Conjurer.

"Oh, for the love of Julianos!" Lost-In-The-Forest groaned. "You see, Neema, this is what I have to deal with every day!"

There was no reply. Lost-In-The-Forest turned around to see that her friend was not there. Neema was missing.


	6. Sticky Fingers Part 2

Chapter 6: Sticky Fingers Part 2

"Where'd she go?" Lost-In-The-Forest wondered out loud.

"Where'd who go?" Sparkticus asked.

"Neema." Lost-In-The-Forest replied. "I went down the alley to deal with you and, when I turned around, Neema was gone."

"Who's Neema?" the thief asked.

"Beige Argonian with green eyes." Lost-In-The-Forest repliied. "She's fascinated with the buildings here."

"Oh!" the thief said, seeming to realize who the mage was talking about. "The woman who wanders around staring at buildings, muttering to herself, and writing things in a book! I know who you're talking about. You should talk to her boyfriend."

Lost-In-The-Forest raised a brow ridge. "Neema? Boyfriend? Since when did Neema have a boyfriend?"

"Look, I actually am prepared to sleep with your friend if it keeps me from getting killed, but I'm going to need your word that you're not going to tell the guards about this whole _misunderstanding_ with your money before I give you information." the thief said, cutting straight to the chase.

"Oh, make no mistake, thief." Sparkticus said with a cruel smile. "Though I find your threats of violence to be highly... _exciting_, death would be one of the more merciful things that could happen to you."

"What are you saying?" the Bosmer thief asked, "Make up your mind. Are you saying that you want to kill me or that you want to fuck me?"

The disguised Dremora let out a dark chuckle and said, "Either. Both. Either way, I plan on enjoying myself."

To emphasize his words, Sparkticus ground himself against the thief. Immediately, the thief's brown eyes widened dramatically and said, "All right, make him promise he won't rape me to death and and I'll talk!"

Lost-In-The-Forest glanced at the thief and then at her companion and flatly said, "Sparkticus, promise you won't rape her to death."

"I promise that I won't rape her to death." Sparkticus said calmly and evenly. Even if it had occurred to him, he couldn't do it. It was one of the conditions of his arrangement with Lost-In-The-Forest. Another condition was that he couldn't lie to her. He could lie to others. Just not to her.

"You heard the lady." the thief said. "Now get off of me."

Sparkticus glanced at Lost-In-The-Forest, who nodded. He released the thief and stepped away from her. "He's off you." the Argonian said. "Now talk."

"His name is Donato. He's a good looking guy, Imperial with short, dark brown hair and green eyes. He has odd earlobes. One is free and the other is attached" the thief explained, "Alchemist, from the smell of him. He has a scar on his left hand that looks like a slaughterfish bite."

"What else can you tell me about him?" Lost-In-The-Forest asked.

"Well," the thief continued, "he's been trying to get her to meet him in more private places. Probably not because of sex. It didn't stop them before. I've seen those two go at it in whatever dark alley they could find."

Lost-In-The-Forest grimaced. She really did not need to know about Neema's sex life. "There could be other reasons to meet in private. They are a couple." the Argonian said.

"Nah, these past few days, I don't think she wanted to meet him in private." said the thief. "I'm thinking there's trouble in paradise. Sometimes he meets someone at the inn. Never got a good look at his face."

"What time do they usually meet?" Lost-In-The-Forest asked.

"About noon." the thief replied. "So... about an hour ago."

"Donato might still be there." the Argonian said hopefully. "Looks like we're heading to the inn."

"Great!" the Bosmer woman said. "Looks like you don't need me anymore."

"You're not going anywhere, thief." Lost-In-The-Forest said, grabbing the thief by the arm before she could walk away. "I might need your services later."

"Oh, joy." the thief groaned, "The greatest thief in Markarth becomes somebody's pet detective."

"Get over it." Sparkticus grumbled. "If she can turn a ruthless killer into her willing travelling companion, she can turn you into a detective."

"I can pay you." Lost-In-The-Forest offered.

That seemed to change the thief's mind. The Bosmer grinned broadly and said, "Well, since you've twisted my arm, I'll do it. Of course, you can't exactly walk around Markarth calling me 'thief' in front of the guards. My name is Meris."

As Lost-In-The-Forest took the bag of stolen money back from the thief, she said, "It'll be a pleasure to work with you, Meris."

**00000000000000000000000000000000000**

They'd had to stake out the inn for a while before Donato returned. Lost-In-The-Forest pulled her hood up to conceal her identity just in case the Imperial might recognize her. This time, it was Sparkticus and Meris who had gone in. Meris had changed her appearance a little. The other two would never have guessed it, but the thief was a fairly talented Illusionist. No doubt it was to help her in her endevors as a thief. Her short auburn hair was replaced by shoulder-length blonde hair. She was clad in a dress that emphasized her curves without looking salacious. Her figure was not as curvy or buxom as Lost-In-The-Forest's. Meris was fairly lean in her build and her breasts could be described as unimpressive. She wasn't flat-chested, but her breasts were slightly smaller than average. Of course, this particular dress, combined with the makeup she put on, made her appear to be more attractive. She wasn't ugly. She was just rather... average. There was a certain aspect of her that filled the short Argonian with envy. Meris was a couple inches taller than she was. When Meris entered the tavern, she bought a drink. As she began to pretend to drink it, Sparkticus walked in and sat in an out-of-the-way corner where he could observe the goings-on. Meris didn't trust the man who apeared to be a Redguard as far as she could throw him, but she didn't really have a choice in the matter. Still, he seemed to respect and listen to the Argonian, who was obviously in charge. The Bosmer woman did not look at Sparkticus. Instead, she continued to pretend to drink. As she stood alone, someone approached her. "Hello." he said. "It's not every day that a beautiful woman walks into this place."

She didn't even have to look to tell that it was Donato. She was right about trouble in paradise. What he had said was a blatant come-on, and a lousy one at that. Without missing a beat, she turned around and smiled. "It's not every day I run into a handsome man in a place like this."

Donato grinned. "So, fair Bosmer," he said, "Might I get your name?"

"Inith." Meris lied. "What's your name?"

"I'm Donato." the Imperial replied. "So, what do you think of Markarth so far?"

"The people here could be a bit friendlier." Meris said with a sigh. "The history is fascinating, though.

"Well, I'm friendly." Donato said with a smile. "How about we find someplace a bit nicer to talk about history?"

Again, another blatant come-on. Meris acted as if she were shy as she said, "I'd like that."

The Imperial took the Bosmer's hand and kissed it before leading her out the door and onto the streets of Markarth. From a distance, Sparkticus followed them. Donato, predictably, led her to an alley. Gently, he ran his hand over her cheek. Meris closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. Donato leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. Suddenly, a voice sounded. "Hello, Donato." Lost-In-The-Forest said.

Donato looked around to see a tall Redguard man standing one side of the alley and a short Argonian woman in mage robes standing on the other side of the alley. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm a friend of Neema's." Lost-In-The-Forest replied cooly. "I've been told that you might know where she is."

"I don't know where she went." Donato said nervously.

"He's lying." Meris said, her voice sounding as if she were certain.

Donato gaped at the Bosmer woman. "You led me into a trap?"

"Briliant deduction." Meris said sarcastically.

Lost-In-The-Forest reached into herself to access her Magicka and conjured a bound blade. Sparkticus, likewise, drew his Daedric longsword. Donato then felt a dagger against his belly. "So," Meris said, "Where is she?"

"I don't know!" Donato insisted.

Meris poked the Imperial harshly in the stomach, not breaking skin but still causing pain. "You know," Lost-In-The-Forest said casually, "There are other people I could talk to about the disappearance of my friend."

That was a lie. She didn't know anyone else. Donato's eyes went wide as, finally, he said, "She went with a Breton mage! He said he'd give me money if I told her to go with him. They were heading to Rorikstead!"

"That's all I needed to know." Lost-In-The-Forest said with a smile.

Meris squeezed out from between Donato and the wall. Sparkticus walked over to the Imperial and, with a swing of his sword, decapitated the man. He glanced at Meris, who was staring at him. The disguised Dremora explained, "If I allowed him to live, he might have told the mage who had taken her."

Lost-In-The-Forest sighed, but nodded and said, "That does make sense. Come on, we're going to Rorikstead.

**0000000000000**

It was a hurried journey to Rorikstead. Lost-In-The-Forest was rather desperate to find Neema. She had the feeling that something bad had happened to her friend. When they arrived, Lost-In-The-Forest questioned several people. Finally, she got a good answer. It was said that they were heading in the direction of Morthal. The trio then headed to Hjaalmarth Hold. They'd had to stop for the night. As soon as the sun started to peek over the horizon, they were on the road again. They were still quite a ways away from Morthol. They were accosted a few times by local wildlife. Meris had proven surprisingly handy with a bow. Lost-In-The-Forest was worried out of her mind for her friend. Still, she managed to follow their trail surprisingly well. It was probably because, this time, she was highly motivated. She and Neema had been friends since they were children. She didn't know how well she could take it if something bad happened to Neema.

Halfway to Morthal, they ran out of food. Meris, of course, took the initiative to go hunting. She moved with a great deal of stealth, creeping silently until she was within firing range of a deer. As she took a breath and extended her view, she saw something near the deer. It was an Argonian's tail sticking out from behind a tree. The deer now forgotten, Meris rushed over to Lost-In-The-Forest and Sparkticus. Slowly, they approached the body. When they finally saw the whole body, Lost-In-The-Forest gasped in horror spun around, and buried her face in Sparkticus' torso. It seemed to be a Bosmer's skin stretched over an Argonian's head and body. She was wearing the same necklace that the beige Argonian always wore. It seemed that they had found Neema. Lost-In-The-Forest clenched her fists and turned around. "I'm going to get him." the Argonian growled. "When I find him, I'm going to kill him. If Sparkticus finds him first, he can kill him. In any manner that he wants. _Any _manner."

Sparkticus nodded. He could see that Lost-In-The-Forest was more serious than she had ever been in the time that she had known him. His expression unreadable, the disguised Dremora said, "As you wish."


	7. Reunion

Chapter 7: Reunion

Izeera groaned and buried her face in her hands. It seemed that, yet again, they would be delayed thanks to bad luck. This time, it was an injury. Shame had badly sprained his ankle. Thanks to an additional illness, it took him much, much longer to regenerate his Magicka. It would probably take him about a week to heal himself. Izeera would try to be patient, but it seemed that they were stuck in Dragon Bridge until Shame had fully recovered. So they had to play the waiting game. Of course, after six days, the Khajiit became restless. She desperately wished that something would happen. Unfortunately, her wish came true. She heard a roar echo through the sky as a shadow flew over the town. Her reflexes kickin in, Izeera looked up and saw something that filled her heart with unspeakable dread. A dragon. The townsfolk were panicking. Izeera knew that, if nothing was done, the town would be reduced to ruins and the people would be killed. Could she take on a dragon? Who knows? All she knew was that she had to try. Reaching into herself, she accessed her Magicka. She chose a lightning spell this time. When the dragon landed on one of the buildings, she took aim and fired. The dragon roared as it took the damage. With the dragon's attention now on her, the Khajiit called out, "Hey! Dragon! Your mother was an iguana!"

The dragon roared at Izeera, who bolted, hoping to lead the dragon away from the village. She was fortunate that she succeeded. The dragon followed her. Once she was a safe distance away, Izeera kept firing lightning bolts at the dragon whenever it was within range. She managed to dodge its fire, but she could feel the heat of it. She was keeping the dragon away from the village, but she didn't know if she could handle it on her own. When the dragon landed and began to charge at her, the Khajiit tried to run out of its way, but she tripped. Well, she was screwed. Izeera rolled over to face her death with courage. To her surprise, that death didn't come. She could hear a woman's voice roar, followed by the dragon's roar as a warhammer was brought down on its tail. It was Hildegard! When the dragon turned its attention to the Nord, the Khajiit used that opportunity to fire several more lightning spells at the beast. She continued to fire until her Magicka reserves were low. She needed to recover. Izeera drew her Dwarven war axe. She swung at the dragon. The scales protected it from much of the damage but, bit by bit, the axe started to wear through the scales. Both she and Hildegard kept it quite occupied, but it wasn't quite enough. Suddenly, a third weapon entered the fray. It was a mace. It belonged to Shame. He appeared to still be in pain from his ankle, but he was fighting. The three mercenaries gradually wore the dragon down. Finally, Izeera swung at its face, doing a great deal of damage. She then leapt on the dragon's head, chopping and swinging until it finally went down. The relieved Khajiit slid off its head. She then walked over to Shame and punched him in the arm. "What was that for?" the High Elf cried.

"You should be in bed!" Izeera scolded. "Now you have to take even longer to recover!"

Shame grimaced, but he knew that his friend was right. Leaning on his friends, he was assisted in limping back towards Dragon Bridge, where they were met with a joyful welcome. Shame, of course, sat down right away. Hildegard was grinning. Izeera smirked and said, "Izeera did not expect to be a hero for free!"

The three were not paid. Instead, someone supplied them with a potion of cure disease, which Shame eagerly downed. With his illness gone, his Magicka was able to regenerate at its normal rate. He was then able to easily heal himself. There was a celebration in honor of the three 'heroes'. By the end of the day, everyone was tired, especially the trio. Everyone went to bed, exhausted. In the morning, they went about their usual routine when Izeera heard the guards say something about the Imperials attacking Windhelm. Immediately, the Khajiit's heart filled with worry as she gasped, "Lyall!"

She had no way of knowing whether the Dark Elf had been able to get out of the city before the attack. She knew what she had to do. Izeera quickly went over to Shame and Hildegard. "We are going back to Windhelm." Izeera announced.

"Oh, for the Divines' sakes!" Hildegard groaned.

**00000000000000000000000000000**

Izeera could not recall having made a faster journey from Dragon Bridge to Windhelm in her life. By the time she got there, the people were already rebuilding. Izeera frantically searched for her Dunmer friend. When she spotted her friend, Izeera called out, "Lyall!"

The Dark Elf grinned broadly when she saw the Khajiit and ran over to her. Lyall then wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug, burying her head in the Khajiit's shoulder. Izeera gently took Lyall's chin in her hands and tipped her head so they were face to face. "Izeera feared the worst." the mercenary said softly.

"I'm fine." Lyall said with a smile. "It's said that things are going to get better now that the Dragonborn has defeated Ulfric."

"Izeera would very much like to meet this Dragonborn." the Khajiit said with a smile. "Izeera wants to meet the person who may have led to a better life for Izeera's friend."

It was then that Shame and Hildegard finally caught up to the spellsword. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you came here to find Lyall." Hildegard sighed.

"Lyall is Izeera's friend." the Khajiit said.

"Come." Lyall said with a smile. "I'll introduce you to the Dragonborn. She's helping rebuild."

The trio followed the Dunmer woman over to a place where several people were rebuilding. One of them was a rather pretty brown-haired Imperial girl, perhaps nineteen years old, in Imperial armor. Izeera immediately recognized her as the girl she had seen near Riverwood. "This," Lyall said, "Is the Dragonborn. Her name is-"

"Rosette!" Shame gasped.

In all of her time knowing the Altmer, Izeera had never seen him more surprised. The woman who had been introduced as the Dragonborn, Rosette, turned around at the familiar voice. Her eyes widened as she let out a joyful cry of, "Edrian!"

The Imperial girl ran over to the High Elf and flung her arms around him. She fought back tears as she cried, "I thought I'd never see you again!"

"I... I thought you were dead!" Shame stammered.

"I survived the fire." Rosette explained. "By the time things calmed down and I was healed enough to walk, you were gone."

"It seems that you know Shame." Hildegard said, stating the obvious.

"I knew him seven years ago, back when he was a Thalmor wizard." Rosette said, a smile clear on her face.

Hildegard and Izeera's jaws dropped. Shame, a Thalmor wizard? With the way he was right now, it the possibility seemed so far removed from reality! "How?" Izeera gasped. "How did you know him?"

"Well," Rosette explained, "When I was twelve, I started following him around. He couldn't get me to leave him alone, so he sort of became my mentor."

"Why in the name of the gods would you follow a Thalmor wizard around?" Hildegard asked, completely astounded.

"Well..." Rosette blushed a furious red. "I thought Edrian was handsome."

Shame seemed shocked as well. That was why she had followed him around? He attempted to look anywhere but at the Imperial girl. "Isn't he a bit... _old_ for you, even right now?" Hildegard asked.

"How old could he possibly be?" Izeera asked, giving Hildegard a funny look. "If he were an Imperial like her, I mean."

Shame rubbed the back of his head and mumbled something. "What was that?" Rosette asked.

"Forty-six." Shame said a bit louder, so they heard him. "If I were an Imperial, I would be forty-six."

Hildegard whistled before saying, "Old enough to be the Dragonborn's father!"

"It doesn't matter." Shame replied. "I was her mentor. It wouldn't be appropriate even now."

"It was a childish crush." Rosette said. "I got over it years ago."

Izeera raised a brow. She had a hunch that the girl was disappointed. "Well," Izeera said, "Izeera thanks you for making life better for Lyall."

"You're welcome." Rosette said, a blush covering her face. She then turned to Shame and said, "So, a priest?"

"Yes." Shame replied. "I follow the teachings of Stendarr."

"Now that you're a priest, I suppose that means you don't use your othe magic anymore." the Imperial girl deduced, "Aside from Restoration, presumably."

"Restoration and Alteration, actually." Shame replied. "Healing spells, wards, and armor spells."

"Shame uses other magic?" Izeera was surprised. The surprises never ended!

"Yes!" Rosette replied. "He uses-"

Shame covered Rosette's mouth and said, "They don't really need to know. I used them once, but I don't use them anymore."

"Oh." the Dragonborn replied. "Well, who wants drinks?"

"That, Izeera will not question." Izeera said with a smile.

**00000000000000000000000000000**

The entire group was laughing as they regaled stories of their travels. The inebriated Izeera had a tipsy Lyall on her lap. Hildegard was standing up, but her iron helm was sitting on the table. Rosette was sitting next to Shame. "Let me get this straight." Rosette said with a grin, "She _seriously_ didn't know that you were a mage, Izeera?"

"Hildegard did not know." Izeera replied. "When Izeera started a fire with one of her spells, Hildegard proved that it was possible to trip over one's own feet while sitting down. She squealed like a child."

"I did not squeal like a child!" Hildegard huffed.

"You did, too." Shame slurred. "You were like, 'eeek!'"

"Oh, shut up, you drunkard." Hildegard grumbled.

"You're not exactly sober, either." Rosette noted.

"Yes, but I'm not banned from the Winking Skeever in Solitude." the Nord woman retorted.

"Shame is not banned." Izeera corrected. "He is on the establishment's 'do not serve' list. He can pay for a room for the night, but he cannot have a drop to drink."

"I'm not allowed anything stronger than water in Solitude." Shame admitted.

Not having access to alcohol was tough for Shame. He drank in excess when he was allowed to drink without supervision. This was his last drink for the night. After this, Izeera had instructed the barkeep to stop serving him. Of course, she couldn't always keep tabs on him, though she did try her hardest. At least he wasn't consciously trying to kill himself. He'd only made one attempt on his own life since he had met Izeera, and that attempt was nearly a year ago. The Khajiit's presence had been beneficial to him, but he still had a long way to go. He knew that, should he stop drinking, it would probably take many years for his reputation in Solitude for being a drunkard to go away. Was there anything more pathetic than a drunken priest? Still, he continued. Izeera had once offered to give him a special treatment, a traditional Khajiit medicine to rid a person of a drinking habit. He had never even thought about accepting it. Maybe one of these days he would, but for the forseeable future, he would continue his hard drinking. Rosette, who was still on her first drink, looked up at Shame with what could have been concern in her eyes. What was she so worried about? He was about to ask the Imperial girl, but she looked away. It must have been nothing.

**000000000000000000000000000000**

Izeera was always an early riser. When she woke up in the morning, she became immediately aware of a warm presence curled up against her. She opened her eyes to see that her field of vision was blocked by a head full of black hair. Her arm was currently wrapped around the body that the hair belonged to. She slowly pulled her arm back. As she did this, her hand brushed bare breasts. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the person in bed with her was a woman and that the woman was naked. It did, however, take a moment for Izeera to realize that she was also naked. A wonderful scent filled her nose. It was the scent of feminine arousal. It wasn't happening at the moment, but it was there. Her whiskers twitched. There was a strange substance around her mouth. It wasn't dried drool. She rubbed her face and brought her hand up to her nose. She inhaled deeply. Definitely feminine arousal. It wasn't hers. Oh, gods. What had she done last night? Slowly, her memories of the night before trickled back. Heated touches, bodies pressed together, cries of pleasure. Izeera could still practically taste her. When the woman in bed with her rolled over, it confirmed what Izeera already suspected: it was Lyall. Oddly, the Khajiit wasn't as mortified as she thought she would be. Despite her best efforts to change, she had always remained attracted to women. For several years, Izeera had been fighting her attraction to the Dunmer woman. Apparently, last night the Khajiit had, finally, set aside her inhibitions and made love to Lyall. It appeared that the proverbial cat was out of the bag now. No pun intended. Slowly, Izeera left the bed. Lyall's eyes fluttered open and she sleepily mumbled, "Izeera?"

The Khajiit froze. She had already put her underclothes back on and currently had one leg in her trousers. Awkwardly, Izeera turned to look at Lyall. The Dunmer woman had a puzzled look on her face as she asked, "Where are you going?"

"Izeera is, ah, just going to get the others." the Khajiit replied.

"You're going." Lyall said sadly. "And... you're not going to say goodbye, are you?"

The Dunmer woman paused awkwardly before asking, "Did... I do something wrong?"

Izeera slipped her other leg into her trousers and pulled them up. She sighed and said, "You did nothing wrong."

"It was last night, wasn't it?" Lyall asked. "I didn't mean to pressure you. I-"

"Izeera told you, you did nothing wrong!" Izeera snapped. When Lyall flinched at Izeera's harsh tone, the spellsword's eyes softened. Izeera then said softly, "You did nothing that Izeera did not permit."

"Then what's wrong?" Lyall asked, her crimson eyes wide with worry and concern.

"Izeera is... confused." The Khajiit admitted. "Izeera does not know what to do. For a long time, Izeera has fought this attraction to Lyall. These... feelings."

"I..." Lyall admitted shyly, "I've been struggling with the same thing."

The Dunmer woman looked up at the Khajiit and asked, "What are we going to do?"

"Izeera needs time to think." Izeera said.

"About what?" Lyall asked.

"About this." Izeera replied, making an obscure gesture. "About us. If there is an us. Izeera needs some time to figure it out."

The naked Dunmer woman clutched the sheets to her chest and looked away from Izeera. "I understand." Lyall said softly.

Lyall waited until Izeera finished putting on her clothing and gear and left the room. She then started putting on her own clothes, quiet and alone, just her and her aching heart.

**00000000000000000000000**

After Izeera had woken everyone up, they gathered together. Lyall had departed, presumably to go back to her home. Shame was obviously nursing a severe hangover. Rosette obviously seemed to have something on her mind. Hildegard was the first to ask. "Is something on your mind, Dragonborn?"

"There is." Rosette admitted. "I've been thinking about it and I'd like to ask you guys to come with me. To help me save the world."

"For free?" Izeera asked with a raised brow.

"Well, there will probably be treasures along the way." Rosette replied. "Besides, if the world ends, there won't be any gold left for you to earn."

Izeera nodded. That was as good of an excuse as any. Besides, it would probably give her plenty of time away from Lyall, to think about what to do next. If the world ended, it wouldn't matter. Her mind was settled. Before she could decide what would happen next between her and Lyall, the world needed to be saved first. "Izeera will go. It is anyone's choice whether they will go or not."

Hildegard folded her arms across her armored chest and nodded as well. "It will be a great honor to fight alongside you, Dragonborn."

Finally, Rosette looked to Shame. "What say you, Edrian?" the Imperial asked.

Shame seemed to hesitate for a moment. Rosette stood with baited breath for several long, long seconds before the Altmer finally answered with great certainty. "Yes." Shame said. "I'll follow you to the edge of the world and back, Rosette."

A smile erupted on Rosette's face, her eyes filled with an indescribable joy. She let out a shrill gasp of happiness. Shame immediately flinched. "Please, not so loud." he groaned. He was still very, very hung over.


	8. Retaliation

Chapter 8: Retaliation

Rosette had been with the group for about a month. They had travelled all across Skyrim for a solution to the current dragon problem. They were led by Rosette's information and Izeera's impeccable sense of direction. Mostly Izeera's sense of direction. Of course, there were still problems. New problems. Since Windhelm, where some information had been revealed about Shame's past, Hildegard had been growing increasingly mistrustful of the Altmer. She tried to hide it, but the perceptive Izeera knew. She had a hunch that confrontation was inevitable. "So," Hildegard asked, "Where are we going next?"

"We're going to High Hrothgar to speak with the Greybeards." Rosette anounced. "I need to learn a special Shout. It's the only way to defeat Alduin."

"Come, then." Izeera said, taking the initiative and leading the way.

Rosette fell to the rear, walking next to Shame in a comfortable silence. The Imperial girl really was thrilled to see her former mentor again. She clearly cared a great deal about him. Izeera had a hunch that Rosette cared about him even more than she knew. Of course, the Khajiit spellsword would keep quiet about this and let things play out as they should. Izeera's hunches were rarely wrong. Hildegard moved up to Izeera's side. Leaning slightly to speak into the Khajiit's ear, the Nord finally asked, "Are you sure that you want to take him to a place like High Hrothgar?"

"What do you mean?" Izeera inquired.

"I mean that if he could lie to us about the fact that he is a Thalmor wizard, who knows what else he might do?" Hildegard replied.

"Was." Izeera corrected sternly. "Shame _was_ a Thalmor wizard. That was many years ago."

"He could be lying about that, too." Hildegard whispered.

"Shame is a good man. Elf. Whatever." the Khajiit insisted.

A bit louder than she meant to, Hildegard barked, "There are no such thing as good Thalmor! He's a liar and a drunkard!"

The silence changed from comfortable to awkward. Finally, Rosette asked, "Is that really what you think about Edrian?"

"Don't tell me that it hasn't crossed your mind!" Hildegard snapped. "He'll probably betray us the first chance that he gets!"

"Hildegard." Izeera said with a hiss. "Shut up. Now."

"I wish for this quest to be completed properly, Dragonborn." Hildegard insisted. "And it would be best completed if we left behind this no-good, lying, black-hearted coward!"

"Edrian is different!" Rosette cried.

"THEY'RE ALL THE SAME!" Hildegard snapped.

Before anyone could react, Rosette opened her mouth and barked, "_FUS RO DAH!_"

The force of the Shout sent Hildegard flying. She collided with a hard surface. A horrible sound came from the collision. Rosette was mortified. She immediately rushed over to the fallen Nord, praying that the worst hadn't happened. "I'm sorry!" the Imperial girl cried. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it!"

There was a long, painful silence before Hildegard groaned, "Stupid Imperial, you broke my armor!"

The rest of the group let out a collective sigh of relief. However, that did not change the fact that Shame was, well, ashamed, Rosette was upset, and Izeera was very, very angry. The group's de facto leader folded her arms over her armored chest and said, "We will take a detour to Whiterun to make new armor for Hildegard. Then Hildegard and Izeera will have a talk."

Hildegard's blood ran cold. She had just run afoul of Izeera. There were many reasons not to piss off the Khajiit. Izeera was extremely competent with her Dwarven war axe and a skilled Destruction mage. There was also the possibility that Hildegard would be ejected from the group. It would be a serious blow to her honor. Thalmor agent or not, Shame was Izeera's best friend. Hildegard was in deep, deep shit.

**00000000000000000000000000**

Lost-In-The-Forest had travelled all around Skyrim in her hunt for Neema's killer. Of course, there had been complications. Namely, Sparkticus and Meris. A few days after they found Neema's body, it was revealed to Meris that Sparkticus was, in fact, a Dremora. For the first few weeks after that, they hardly spoke to eachother. Now, they were speaking to each other. That wasn't all that the Dremora and the Wood Elf were doing. They started having sex. No, that was an understatement of how often they did it. They went at it like rabbits. Of course, they tried not to let it interfere with their investigation. Unfortunately, it seemed that Neema's killer was always a step ahead of them, leaving a trail of bodies as the group followed him. The most recent one was a Dunmer female. It would probably be best not to describe the state they found the corpse in. It seemed that their enemy was becoming increasingly proficient in his attempts to change a person's race. It was clear that the Dunmer woman had been killed after the fact. Judging from the expression on her face, she must have died in agony. They had to stop this man, whoever he was. He would just keep killing people until his twisted desires were fulfilled. Lost-In-The-Forest's face held a grim expression. Their most recent lead had sent them on the road to Whiterun. They were not there yet, but they would be within a few days. Until then, they would take the road from Riften to Ivorstead. They would take a rest there and then they would take the road through Helgen, then heading to Riverwood. From there, they would head to Whiterun. Currently, they were in a hot spring area. As soon as they had arrived at a semi-private place, Sparkticus had immediately started disrobing. Lost-In-The-Forest headed off to a short distance away to give him some privacy. She could use a dip as well. Once she had disrobed, she slid into one of the hot pools with a sigh.

**00000000000000000000**

It had been pure coincidence when Monica arrived. She did not expect things to go the way they had. When she was in Riften, she heard of a Dremora and a short Argonian planning to go to Ivorstead. Naturally, she followed. She'd had to deal with a few wolves along the way, but it was nothing she couldn't handle with her magic. She wasn't as experienced a mage as Lost-In-The-Forest, but she could hold her own against a few wolves. Since she was rather impatient, she took a shortcut. This led her through the area with the hot springs. When she arrived at a rocky outcrop, she could hear noises coming from the top. Growling, gasping, and moaning. She moved closer. She saw a loincloth laying near some large rocks, which blocked her view of whatever was going on. Carefully, she picked up the loincloth. It smelled like Sparkticus. Lifting it to her face, she inhaled deeply. She let out a soft moan. Quietly, she crept around the rock. She was met with a horriffic sight. It was definitely the cause of the noises. It was definitely Sparkticus and he was definitely naked, but it was what he was doing that gave her cause for alarm. He was pistoning in and out of a rather noisy Wood Elf. The Dremora was making some noises of his own. Monica stood there in silence, completely horrified. Sparkticus and the Bosmer woman were so involved in what they were doing that they didn't even notice the Breton. Not until Monica screamed, "NOOOOOOO!"

A startled Sparkticus pulled out of the Wood Elf with a wet noise. Monica noticed that he was very well-endowed. How had that thing even fit into that Wood Elf? Said Wood Elf appeared to be extremely angry. The naked elf walked through the hot spring, walked over to the Breton, wound her fist back, and punched her in the face. Monica, of course, retaliated. She swung a punch of her own, but the Bosmer woman moved gracefully out of the way. The furious Monica didn't even think to use her magic. She let out a screech and tackled the naked elf. The two of them rolled around on the rock, throwing punches and kicks until, finally, the Wood Elf grabbed Monica's head and slammed it against the rock, rendering her unconscious. The Dremora, whose mood had been killed by Monica's interruption, was standing alert again. That was not the only thing that was standing alert. He had found Meris' display of violence to be highly arousing. He walked over to the thief, lowered her down to the rock, and moved on top of her. "Now," the Dremora purred, "Where were we?"

**00000000000000000000000000**

Sparkticus was rather annoyed. Lost-In-The-Forest had declared that they couldn't just leave Monica there. So, they would take her with them to Ivorstead. As the largest and strongest of the group, he was tasked with carrying the Breton. Lucky him. If it were up to him, he would rather she be on one side of Skyrim and he on another. He wanted to be far away from her, not carrying her. He froze when he felt Monica beginning to stir. She seemed to move towards his neck, as if she would give it some sort of attention. She squinted and stopped. "What the fu- is that a hickey?!" She barked.

Sparkticus released her. He dropped her, practically threw her, to the ground and backed away from her. "She's awake." Sparkticus said. "She can walk now."

Just keep her away from me, he thought. Of course, that was merely wishful thinking. He knew that his wish would not come true when the Breton mage stood up, pointed at him, and cried, "You were having sex!"

"I know that." Sparkticus snarked. "I was there."

Monica's mouth opened and closed like a fish's. Finally, she asked, "Why an elf? Everybody knows that elven women fake it!"

Sparkticus shot Meris a look that obviously said, 'really?' The thief put her hands on her hips and said, "What are you looking at me like that for? I wasn't faking it. If I was, it would mean that you don't know how to pleasure a woman."

Sparkticus let out a threatening snarl. Meris continued, "I enjoyed it as much as you did, so calm down."

Monica refused to look at the thief. Instead, she turned her attention to Lost-In-The-Forest. "So, where are we going?" the Breton asked.

"Ivorstead." the Argonian replied. "You will tbe staying there. Meris, Sparkticus, and I will be moving on."

"Why can't I go with you?" Monica asked.

"Because you keep undressing me with your eyes." Sparkticus said. "It makes me feel dirty."

"Sparkticus, we all know that you have no sense of modesty." Lost-In-The-Forest sighed.

"It still makes me feel dirty when _she_ does it." the Dremora grumbled.

Monica glanced over at Sparkticus. He didn't mean it, she told herself. He was obviously still upset at being interrupted earlier. The group continued in awkward silence. When finally they arrived at Ivorstead, the group got out some drinks. Meris insisted on pouring Monica's drink, as way of apology. Monica smiled at the Bosmer woman and took a swig. As she progressed through her drink, she began to grow woozy. By the time she was done with her drink, she was out like a light. Lost-In-The-Forest and Meris dragged the Breton over to a building and propped her against it. "Now can we go?" Sparkticus asked.

"Yes, now we can go." Lost-In-The-Forest replied.

**0000000000000000000000000**

"Ah, yes, Whiterun." Izeera said upon walking through the gates of the city in the evening. "Smells like... lavender, ash, and body odor, with a hint of wet dog."

"Izeera, are you making fun of Whiterun?" Hildegard asked with her hands on her hips.

"No." Izeera replied. "Izeera just has a very, very good nose. Why do you think that Izeera tries to make you bathe as often as possible?"

"My father said that if you bathe too much, your skin will fall off." Hildegard insisted.

"Your father was full of shit." Izeera said flatly.

"Why, you-" Hildegard snarled, preparing to draw her weapon.

"If you draw that warhammer, you had better be prepared to use it." Izeera said with a frown. "You will probably try to strike first and, when Izeera kills you for your hubris, Izeera can claim self-defense."

Hildegard seethed, but she knew that the Khajiit was probably right. Though she was not as physically strong or tough as the nineteen-year-old Nord, the twenty-nine-year-old Khajiit was much more agile and a lot better trained than she was. Hildegard removed her hand from her weapon. Izeera nodded and said, "Wise choice."

Hildegard fumed, but she followed the Khajiit in silence. Izeera turned to Shame and Rosette and said, "Go, see the sights of the city. Sit under the tree and catch up. Hildegard and Izeera still need to have that talk."

Izeera then started reaching in her bag to pull out some ingots and leather strips. Not only was she a talented axe-wielder and an able Destruction mage, she was also a gifted smith. She was the one who had crafted her own Orcish armor and Dwarven war axe. She knew that Hildegard favored iron armor, but it was time for an upgrade. So she set about making Hildegard a new steel breastplate. She heard Hildegard attempting to walk away and said out loud, "Stay where you are. We _are_ going to have that talk and we are going to have it _now_."

The Khajiit kept her eye on her work, but she kept her ear on Hildegard. As she began to craft the armor, Izeera calmly began to speak. "You and Izeera need to discuss your treatment of Shame."

"He's a Thal-" Hildegard tried to say.

"He _was_ a Thalmor wizard." Izeera said coldly. "He is not anymore. Izeera has a hunch that he hasn't been for years."

"But-" Hildegard tried to protest.

"Be silent!" Izeera said with a hiss. "Izeera will talk and you will listen."

The Khajiit said wit with so much conviction that Hildegard actually kept her mouth shut. Izeera then continued, "Shame has been a priest since before Izeera knew him. He is far from what he was before. He is a good person, a great friend, and a worthy ally. There is zero chance of him betraying any of us."

Pausing from her work, Izeera turned to face Hildegard and said, "If you can't accept that, don't bother coming with us when we leave Whiterun."

**0000000000000000000000000000**

Rosette and Shame walked side by side through the streets of Whiterun. After a while, Rosette looped her arm through the High Elf's. He gave her a strange look, but he did not try to remove himself from her grasp. He glanced down at her arms. He could still see burn scars on them. Again, he felt the shameful knowledge that she had almost died and he had been unable to save her. But here she was, by his side. For once, he had the faintest hope that one day he might be able to redeem himself. Until then, he would not leave her side unless she dismissed him. He glanced at Rosette's face. She had a look of contentment, as if the dragon problem was worlds away. It was nice, to see her like this. Izeera had suggested that they catch up on things. Unfortunately, Shame had no idea what to say. Rosette took the initiative. "So, you're a priest of Stendarr now." she commented.

"Yes." Shame replied. "I am."

"How long have you been a priest?" Rosette asked.

"Going on three years." Shame said.

"So... what does that entail?" the Imperial girl inquired.

"Praying. Showing compassion and mercy. Upholding righteousness." Shame replied. "I provide healing when needed."

"And acting as Izeera's conscience?" Rosette added humorously.

Shame chuckled and replied, "That, too."

"She's your best friend, isn't she?" Rosette asked.

"She is." the High Elf said. "She's gotten me through some pretty dark times. I can say with certainty that I wouldn't be alive without her."

Rosette probably assumed that the Altmer had been speaking of his time travelling and doing jobs with the Khajiit spellsword. He was actually speaking of the times he had tried to take his own life. Without Izeera, he surely would have succeeded. If he had committed suicide, he would have never lived to see Rosette again. Words could not describe how thankful he was to the Khajiit, for both saving his life and leading him to be reunited with Rosette. If he wasn't still so messed up, he would have offered to be Rosette's mentor again. As things were, he would provide support to her and keep the newly-reforged bonds of friendship. He had meant it when he said that he would follow her to the ends of the world and back. Unfortunately, the end of the world might be closer than he thought. He gazed at Rosette's visage. She was so young. A woman of nineteen should not have to deal with the weight of the world on her shoulders. She should be doing normal things, like chasing after men her age. Well, there was also her service in the Imperial Legion. That in and of itself was an honorable pursuit. When he reached the area with the great tree in it, Shame attempted to do what Izeera always suggested that he do when he was in that area: ignore Heimskr's fanatical rantings. This proved to be more difficult than usual when the preacher spotted the Altmer male and the Imperial girl, walking arm in arm. "Behold, proof of the elves' treachery! Behold this elf, corrupting this young girl to his deviant desires!" Heimskr belted out.

"Deviant desires?" Rosette echoed.

Shame wanted to melt into the ground to escape this embarrassment. "The poor girl does not know that she is being manipulated!" Heimskr declared. "The Empire looks the other way as the elves seduce young maidens to-"

Suddenly, the space at Shame's side was empty. Rosette had moved quickly, rushing over to the proselytizing Nord and punching him in the face. In less than a minute, a guard had rushed over to them, sword drawn. "By the order of the Jarl, stop right there!" the Guard shouted.

Rosette took a step back and said, "I submit. Take me to jail."

"The elf made her do it!" Heimskr shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Shame.

Another guard grabbed Shame. Rosette glared at Heimskr and said, "You are so full of shi-"

"Silence, criminal." the guard who had arrested Rosette said.

It seemed that the two of them would be spending the night in the dungeon. Not an ideal way to spend the night in Whiterun.


End file.
